On Death and the Life Left Behind
reflections on Life, Loss, and the unfinished stories we carry
I think about death from time to time, but I rarely talk about it. There’s never anyone to discuss death with because nobody wants to talk about it. As someone who lost her father at the age of 8, her sister Elizabeth before that, and currently doesn’t have any grandparents, you can see why death is always in my awareness.
I used to tell people that thinking about death is what grounds me, but I fear that it might be one of the things keeping me stuck. When you lose a loved one, you realise the finality of death and how your heart breaks every time you think of them. It doesn’t get easier with time.
The Weight of Mortality
I’ve been thinking a lot about the weight of mortality recently, especially after hearing a podcast by Dr. Thema where a poem from her late mother’s book Reverend Dr. Cecelia Williams Bryant's “I Dance with God” was shared, and I currently have tears in my eyes.
Reverend Cecelia wrote, "Let us ramble through the forgotten dreams of women who no longer know themselves."
This line resonated deeply with me. It made me think about death again—what I might leave unfinished if I stop working on myself, my dreams and aspirations in life and with dreams and aspirations I don't mean material things but knowing of self and knowing that you are living a life that is true to you. Don’t ask me why I’m thinking about these things, abeg—it’s just where my mind goes, and sometimes I have no control over it."
The Question of Freedom
Lately, I’ve been thinking more about freedom than death. Yet, as I write, I find myself wondering: If I’m so aware of the finality of death, why do I care so much? Why are we so bound by our own hands and feet? Why haven’t I taken more steps toward living fully—toward loving myself, building my self-esteem, advancing my career, and reclaiming every part of my life? Why do I remain stuck, held back by invisible bounds? I often wonder if I were to die tomorrow, what would the life I leave behind look and feel like?
A friend of mine often says, “Whenever you wake up is your morning.” But I still wonder how different my life might have been if I had woken up earlier.
Final Reflections
I’m not even sure if this writing is appropriate for Substack or if it belongs in my morning pages. Still, these are my thoughts after listening to portions from Reverend Dr. Cecelia Williams Bryant's book.
If you’ve made it this far through my reflections on death and freedom, thank you. I’d love to hear your thoughts if you feel moved to share.
Takeaway for Today
Death and freedom are two sides of the same coin. Thinking about what we leave unfinished can either paralyze us or propel us forward. I hope this serves as a gentle nudge—for you and for me—to wake up, whenever our morning comes, and live fully.
A Song for When You finally wake up
Morning Man by Asa - I sing this one as a love song to myself
Here is a bit of the Poem by Reverend Dr. Cecelia Williams Bryant that stuck with me.
“So let us ramble through the forgotten dreams of women who no longer know themselves, who have fallen off the cliffs of rejection and now live in volcanic ashes, who remain awake at midnight, courting the storms of childhood memories, whose lips turn to stone in its time to pray, who cannot remember the names of their children or their lovers, who don't know where their grandmothers are buried, who re-tie their head rags over and over and over again because they can no longer love themselves, who cannot feel the future, who welcome only death. In the canyon of dreams, there is music, there are portraits, there are precious gems, there are unfinished curtains and novels, a thousand million poems… This is my body, a rhythm of hope, your channel of self-revelation, an echo of divine logos, a shadow of eternal radiance."
Thank you for being here!
with love,
Aya