I tried calling you on Saturday, knowing fully well you wouldn’t pick up, but it was worth the try. I had a dream about you on my birthday weekend. In the dream, you were telling me you weren’t dead, and Aunt Violet was agreeing with you. I just looked at you with tears in my eyes because I knew the truth… and I kept wondering if Aunt V was in denial.
We had become closer around this year. You’d call me bestie whenever you wanted something, or I’d help you figure out what to say during your silly phone calls. I finally gathered the courage to listen to the last voice notes you sent me, and my heart sank when you said I was rarely home for us to talk before you left. If I had known those were our final moments, I would have stayed in the house with you. I would have tolerated you more.
You are deeply, deeply missed, Mwamba.
We wish heaven had an address… or even a phone number, just so we could talk every time we thought of you. 💔