Promise Me You Will Be At My Funeral

She looked me straight in the eyes, wearing her usual friendly smile that I have been used to for years, she held my hands and she said,” Ike, promise me you will be at my funeral; and I smiled back, squeezed her tender hands gently and answered, I promise.

The above quote is not an excerpt from a fiction, it is a real dialogue I had with my long time friend yesterday. I have known Meria since 1996, that is some 14 years ago. We both attended the same multicultural theater course organized by the city of Helsinki. It was a difficult time then as Finland was in a depression after the fall of the Soviet Union. The authorities were designing all kinds of way to keep professionals busy while seeking new ways of stabilizing the economy. The theater course for the promotion of multiculture was one of such hence it attracted a group of high quality artistes as participants. Meria was one of them. She holds a masters degree in theater arts and has worked in many major production companies in Finland. We all had a great time during the course and the subsequent productions that followed. Meria was very active and got along well with everyone. She was always willing to take up duties others shy away from, and like the rest of us, she loves to party after a hard days job.

At the end of the project, we all went our ways pursuing our personal interests, and would cross paths once in a while. Meria was one of those people I ran into often after the project because my family moved into an apartment within the same area where she lives. We meet once in a while in the local pub. It was during one of such meetings sometime in 2008 she reviled to me that she has got cancer. It was a sad moment for me when she told me that. Such a lively, friendly, fun loving young lady, to be struck by cancer?

From that moment on, Meira kept updating me with the progress of her treatment. It was mostly a mixture of good news, often signed off with a tincture of uncertainty. She will often say something like, “Ike, I will be off to the clinic tomorrow for chemotherapy, well let’s see how it goes regarding the spread” Other times she will say “Yippii, I am still alive and kicking, there was no spread this time, and I just take it by the day”. This continued for couple of years and I got used to talking freely with her about her condition. What struck me mostly was that she never for once showed any sign of depression. She was always the Meira I know, lively, ever-smiling, great sense of humor, etc. One day at the local, she insisted on buying me a pint against my rejection. Seeing how adamant I was, she looked me in the eyes and with a cynical smile said, “You know Ike, this could be the last opportunity I may have to buy you a pint” Then I gave up, and she busted into laughter, saying “got ya”. That’s typical Meria for you. Ever lively, ever joking. She loves life, but certainly understands that the end is near, but does it matter?

All the while, I kept hoping that someday she will gladly announce to me that she has been totally cured, but that was just wishful thinking because yesterday she told me the inevitable. “It is over, no more therapies, no more worries” she said with her usual smile. “ I am glad, she continued; that at last I do not have to keep guessing about my condition anymore, the moment the doctors told me there was no need to go on, I quickly accepted it, Ike, I am ready to go” she said. It was then I realized I was not ready for this. But while observing her, I did not find and change in her disposition; she was the same old Meira. She kept teasing and taunting her boyfriend in her usual manner. Everything seemed ok, and I had to play along. That evening we talked deeply about the concept of life and death. We debated on which way is better; Knowing that death is coming and waiting for it, or death coming suddenly and unannounced. It was also during this conversation she held my hands and asked me to promise her that I will be at her funeral, to which I promised. l also had to exchange telephone numbers with her boyfriend so that I will be duly informed when the inevitable happens.

At first it sounded to me like I was being invited to a friend’s birthday, weeding or such party, but getting home that evening when I laid my head down and thought over the whole thing, it dawned on me that a living friend invited me to her funeral. Then I wondered how many people ever got such special invitation.

NOTE

This article is in celebration of Meria’s courage even in the face of death, it is also for we all to realize, even though we already know it, that life is a mere journey and the most significant essence of it is the landmark we leave behind.

My friend is not gone yet, she has been assigned a place at the special hospital for terminal illness. According to doctors, she still have some months to live, and she comes home on weekends depending on her physical condition. I chose not to wait till she is gone to celebrate her life.

Ikechukwu Ude-Chime is a media specialist based in Helsinki Finland