Life and Death Archives

MAKING THE BEST OF THE TIME WE HAVE

By Kimberly Fray / Sep 4, 2024 Sep 4, 2024

Death is so sudden. We never know when it’s going to visit us. Whether directly or indirectly.
I was watching a video of someone who had just lost a loved one and he said that it was so sudden, no one expected this person to die. He had spoken to this person just the day before and there was no indication of sickness whatsoever and now she was gone.

Even when we know someone is at the end of their life, whether by old age or illness, we can’t always accept that they are about to leave us. And once they do, that void left behind is so palpable, so tangible.

So many people are experiencing loss lately. I see it everywhere.

I work in news and I see death on a daily basis. At times, I feel a bit disensititized and then I have to remind myself, that someone has lost a loved one and that it could have easily been me in that situation.

It’s strange though, before I lost my mother in 2020, I didn’t understand death or its impact but now, it’s as if I can feel everyone’s pain, everyone’s grief because it reminds me of my own.

Isn’t funny though, how something like death can be the thread that connects us?

Life is short and death is sudden. I don’t think we realize that any day can be our last. We are busy making plans for tomorrow but don’t know if tomorrow is on our calendar.

We haven’t accepted it. Our human minds can’t comprehend it.

I was watching a show and one of the characters delivered the following line:

“All we can do is the best we can with the time that is given to us”

We’ve all heard the saying, ‘Live each day as if it’s your last’
but what if we lived each day as if it were our first?
Full of wonder and curiosity and joy, love and gratitude. Untainted by heartache, pain, loss, grief, anger, hate or unforgiveness.
But rather as if we’re experiencing the world for the very first time.
With a gentle approach, an open mind, and a receiving heart.

We don’t know when our last day on earth will be.
All we have is today. You can choose how you spend it.

There are many things I wish I could have said to my mother before she died and sadly, we only realize these things afterwards but we still have many other loved ones we can cherish and appreciate.

Don’t waste it. Be kind, loving gentle, and compassionate.
Be good.

Our behavior and actions are all we can control.

Death is out of our hands. How we live our life that has been gifted to us is all we have.

THE CAB RIDE

By Kimberly Fray / Aug 10, 2024 Aug 10, 2024

The evening lights whizzed past me in a blur, I stared out the window, watching the moon smile and follow the cab I was in.
A cell phone rang in the front seat of the car but the driver didn’t answer. He ignored it and stared ahead.
Mm, maybe someone was calling him who he was upset with but then my mind started racing.

What if?
What if he murdered someone and the body is in the boot and the phone belongs to the person he killed??

I can’t believe I’m in a car with a total stranger?!
Why do we check the number plate but never check what’s in the boot??

Then another intrusive thought crept up.

That’s what we do as people anyway. At least most of the time.
We look at the outer of a person and don’t always investigate what is going on within.

And once we do, it’s almost always too late to turn back.

cell phone, technology, mobile phone-8288353.jpg

Just like we make a conscious decision to get into a cab with a total stranger, we make a conscious decision to get involved with someone we don’t know and then wonder how we ended up in the boot of a car.
Decomposing in the back, with a phone showing a hundred missed calls.

Sometimes we get lucky and end up where we are supposed to: we say thank you for the memories and hope that the next time we get into another stranger’s car, the ride will be just as smooth.

MY DAY AT THE VOTING STATION

By Anonymous Contributor / May 31, 2024 May 31, 2024

I found myself at a crossroads in this election. For the first time since I started voting at the age of 34, I chose not to cast my vote for the African National Congress. This decision weighed heavily on me, as the organisation once represented so much hope for a brighter future for South Africa. The organisation that gave us Nelson Mandela, who was not only a great statesman who left behind an extraordinary legacy, but he also shifted my allegiance in 1995 from the New Zealand All Blacks, who boasted the remarkable Jonah Lomu, to the South African rugby team which at that time had only one black player, Chester Williams.

Former President Nelson Mandela shakes the hand of Springbok player, Chester Williams.

The path to joining the organisation has been a challenging one, especially following the tragic murder of the revered Steve Biko by the apartheid regime. Banning the Black People’s Convention (BPC) and the South African Students’ Organization (SASO), of which I was a member in my youth, significantly heightened the challenge. I was faced with deciding whether to join the Pan African Congress (PAC), which had broken away from the ANC due to its stance that: “the land belongs to all who live in it, both black and white “. Despite this, I firmly believed that the ANC was the organisation that would effectively fight for and get us the freedom we so desperately sought.

I also grappled with the reality that two of my childhood friends (we went to the same school and church and were in the same Christian youth group) made the ultimate sacrifice for the freedom we enjoy today. Cliffie Brown (aka Alf Sigale) and three of his comrades were killed in a firefight with the apartheid security forces after a planned rocket attack on the Mobil Oil Refinery in Wentworth, Durban. Leon Meyer (aka Joe) and his wife, Jacqueline Quinn, were assassinated in a raid in Maseru, Lesotho, by Eugene De Kock and his cohorts, who were also sent by the apartheid regime. These raiders left Leon and Jacqueline’s infant daughter alive but alone for hours. The question then for me: should I honour their memory and once again cast my vote for the ANC, the organisation to which they had dedicated their lives?

Steve Biko

This decision was tough, but I firmly believe it is essential for the future of our nation. The current version of the ANC does not align with the ideals I and so many others once held. It does not embody the principles for which Cliffie and Leon sacrificed their lives.

The ANC has repeatedly abused its majority over the last three government terms. It is crucial to address this recurring behaviour. The ANC must realise that its authority to govern the country comes from the people. Once they understand this, they will be compelled to prioritise serving the very people who have entrusted them with such power.

As I entered the voting booth and cast my ballot for a new party participating in the elections for the first time, I experienced mixed emotions. Instead of feeling guilty, I left the booth with a sense of sadness. It pained me to realise that the organisation I had previously placed my trust in had lost my support. For me to contemplate supporting them once more, they must, as an organisation, truly embody the principles that initially gained my trust.

TIME

By Kimberly Fray / Nov 5, 2023 Nov 5, 2023

Do you realize that time never stops?
It’s always moving.
Sometimes it flutters by like a butterfly
And other times it strolls past, in no rush
With all at ease.
But it is always moving forward.
Changing.
Even when we don’t.
Especially when we don’t.
Time keeps moving.
It truly waits for no one
It doesn’t check or looks back
To see if you’re following or keeping up
It doesn’t shout back and tells you to hurry up.
Time is it’s own master

And you can either be it’s slave
Or it’s partner

It feels no pity for you
It doesn’t share in your joy when you make it
It doesn’t get angry when you ask it to wait or slow down
Time is determined
It is disciplined
It is silent in its dominance
It knows nothing of excuses or procrastination
It changes days and seasons
It moves with purpose and answers to no one
Time has no attachments
It does not love
It does not own
It does not desire
And in that lies it’s power.

BEING INTENTIONAL

By Kimberly Fray / Sep 7, 2023 Sep 7, 2023

WHAT DOES IT MEAN TO BE INTENTIONAL?

When I searched the meaning of the word ‘intentional,’ I found the following definition;
‘done on purpose’ or ‘deliberate.’
The word ‘purpose’ means ‘the reason for doing something.’
So overall, the word intentional means there is a specific reason you do what you do. There is a particular outcome you desire, something you want to see or achieve through your actions, thoughts, and words daily.
I’ve been thinking of my intentions lately, why I do what I do every day, even the simple or mundane things. Why do I clean our home, do laundry, binge-watch series, or eat certain things? Then I realised that some of the everyday things I do sometimes don’t have any purpose. Sometimes, I do it because it’s my excuse not to do what I’m supposed to be doing, for example, watching a series when I should be working on my novel. Those things are not intentional; they are easy. I do it because I am programmed to do it through years of doing the same thing every day.
When I write or share something on my blog or podcast, I don’t just do it because I am programmed to do it. I do it to inspire and motivate others or to share a relatable part of my life so that others might feel seen or heard and less alone. That is the purpose, the intention of my writing.

QUESTIONS ABOUT MY INTENTIONS

Then I asked myself how many things I do that are intentional or have a purpose. The answer was few, which made me sad and a little bit angry at myself.
I want to go through life with a purpose and a clear direction for my life. I want my life to mean something. I want my work to mean something. At the end of my life, I want to know that I have fulfilled what God put me here to do. I want to be more intentional about my thoughts, actions, and words, whether written or spoken. I want it to bring life to others.

HOW TO BE MORE INTENTIONAL

The question then came to me: What can I do or what should I do if I want to be more intentional? It’s certainly not easy because being intentional requires doing the work. It takes renewing your mind and changing old habits into new habits. However, it is not impossible.
For one, whenever you experience a negative thought creeping into your mind, you stop before it overtakes you and switch to the more upbeat, life-giving alternative. Give your thoughts purpose. When you want to watch a third consecutive episode of the current series you’re watching, stop and ask yourself, is there a reason for this? Will this help me fulfill my purpose? What can I do instead?
Write, create art, call a friend or family member and check in, go for a walk and clear your mind, pray, or read. Simple things like that can awaken a part of you that you thought had died long ago.
I think of the story of Ruth and Naomi in the Bible. When Ruth went out to work in the fields, Naomi realised that the land belonged to Boaz. Later in the story, Naomi instructs Ruth to go to the threshing floor so that she may find a husband and a new home. There was purpose in Naomi’s actions, and there was intention. Eventually, that filtered down through the rest of history.

YOU STILL HAVE A PURPOSE

I’d like to believe that when we wake in the morning, God still has a purpose for our lives, which means we have no choice but to be intentional about who we are and what we do. God himself was intentional when He created us. Knowing that should give us enthusiasm for the day ahead and excitement to fulfill that purpose. It should make us curious about what life offers so that when we lay our heads down at night, exhausted but fulfilled, we know we have completed what God has called us to do.
Every single day we have on this earth is a gift. We don’t get the same day twice, and time moves swiftly.
Let’s be intentional about how we use the time we have.

SUBMARINE

By Kimberly Fray / Jul 1, 2023 Jul 1, 2023

I never imagined going down 13 thousand feet into the ocean,
cold and dark all around, trapped in a small space with only four other souls.
Claustrophobia and anxiety heightened.
Yet here I am, I walked right through the gate of the ocean.
Slowly running out of air, knowing each breath, I take is bringing me to my last.
Not knowing what day it is, not knowing what is happening in the world above.
Should I keep fighting? Should I preserve my energy?
Should I pray for a quick death?
Is someone coming? Are they close?
There is total blackness.
Just total blackness.
Life, death, and air are swimming around me; only one is within reach.
The faces of the others staring back at me; who will go first?
Who will be the one to consume the very last bit of oxygen?
Billions of dollars made and spent over a lifetime, only to die alone at the bottom of the ocean.
I think about this on the surface, making me realize that life must be better navigated.
What will they find when they finally reach us?
Our decomposed vessels? An empty submarine? Or nothing at all.
Our story is forever anchored to history’s most extraordinary and tragic sunken ship.

TEARS

By Kimberly Fray / May 15, 2023 May 15, 2023

Tears
My tears are not hot and dry
they are not hidden behind my eyes
or stuck in my throat
They are an overwhelming ocean
a riptide of emotion
My tears are powerful and visible
for all to see
They dare not hide
My tears are ever present
Always available
I am never without
My tears are worthy of
accolades and applause
My tears are not forced or fake
They are real and organic
Constantly flowing
ravaging whatever stands in its way
My tears have a life of its own
Ever present and commanding
Causing you to turn your head when
they make their presence known

This poem was originally published by Quillkeepers Press in the Rearing in the Rearview poetry Anthology.

A MOTHERLESS CHILD

By Kimberly Fray / Apr 18, 2023 Apr 18, 2023

I used to sit on my mother’s lap

Out on the balcony

Watching cars go by

Talking about nothing and everything

She used to stroke my hair

With her aging hands

Or clean my ears with a bobby pin

I could have sat there for hours

I miss being her child

Her youngest daughter

My sisters would tease me, saying I’m spoilt

And her favourite

I would frown, scrunch my nose at them but

Really,

It brought me pure joy

Now I am a motherless daughter

With a daughter of my own

Needing my mother

more than I ever could have ever known

I miss her

I miss my mother every day

I swallow tears and try to ignore the lump

In my throat

Sitting there like a constant reminder of what I lost

I guess it is true what they say

Grief never leaves you

You don’t outgrow it

You simply grow around it.

THE COMFORT ROOM

By Kimberly Fray / Apr 12, 2023 Apr 12, 2023

Sitting in what they call a comfort room after 8 in the morning

I’m watching the door to the theatre

Watching the clock

The comfort room brings little comfort

It’s cold and a lone window is before me covered in blinds

The wall covered in words such as

Harmonious

Healed

Natural

Marvellous

Free

Safe

Happy

Peaceful

Healing

Aware

Conscious

Healthy

All words meant to bring comfort but the irony

Does not miss me

It’s quiet sitting here

Save for the sounds of the machines somewhere in the hospital

And the wheels on the cold tile floors

I feel far away from him

Not knowing what is happening behind that closed theatre door

It holds my heart

And I am locked out of it

I don’t have the access or the authorisation

I watch the door like a predator stalking its prey

Waiting to pounce the minute I see him being wheeled out that room

To take his hands in mine

Kiss his lips

To see his eyes see mine

The only comfort this empty room brings

Is the chance to be with my own thoughts

To allow my inner turmoil to run free and

Keep me company during this time

I fear looking away from the door

I fear I might miss him and never see him again.

San rock art, writing on the wall, history

THE WRITING ON THE WALL

By Kimberly Fray / Mar 1, 2023 Mar 6, 2023

The writing’s on the wall;

stones and sticks and clay and bricks

tell the stories of our history

written in blood and sweat and thousands of tears

I sit in the quiet of the memory hall,

feeling my throat close up and tears start to flow;

how could it be that a people like me

were treated like less than dirt under my feet

I read about how they painted in song

and wrote stories on stone walls, making their

voices known as only they could

dreams shared by entire generations

almost wiped out by white skinned men

who came from afar on a ship with flags

and guns and bibles and a foreign tongue

We watched you from the shore, we

greeted you and welcomed you with

smiles and meals

You smiled back, the greed showing on your gnashing teeth

On our sacred land, where we were born free

they came and beat us, chained us and took what was ours

made us pay for what we farmed and what we sowed

Our mothers and fathers watered the soil with their blood

from it grew the bones of ancestors

the bones we used to make bows and arrows and

found ourselves fighting for land that was ours to begin with

I am an African! I can hear the screams

I am of this earth, and of this sky and of this land

I am an African!

From the earth we were born

sold as slaves as a child

We are also human they say

while they tie us to a donkey, a horse

the heartbeat of the earth beating beneath our bare feet

The only sign we are still alive

You struck us, you tried to belittle us

you put a price on our humanity

but we rose up ; we marched and we fought back

And now we are here

Telling the stories you tried to make us forget

But we have not forgotten and

we will beat the drums

and sing the songs and

write the stories of our heritage