I awoke this morning to the sound of messenger: the sound of Wildcard calling me.
I answered with that nervous-excitment anticipation I always feel when he calls. To my surprise, he was up and heading towards his car – unusual for a Sunday where he gets his only lie-in.
“My friend had died.”
Someone had posted in a group chat of people he studied with. His friend was early thirties and I could see Wildcard struggling to comprehend the information. He was on his way to his friend’s house to see what was happening. In Islam, the dead are buried quickly and he didn’t want to miss it.
Half an hour, the sound of messenger roused me again.
“I can’t believe it, I just can’t believe it.”
His friend had been driving with his parents and sister as passengers. A drunk driver had hit the car. His friend had died instantly. His mother had died this morning and his father and daughter were in hospital. Just like that, two lives lost and another two in the balance.
The story has lingered in my mind all day. My family have arrived, I’ve cooked and entertained, and yet my conscious self, the one with this knowledge has sat apart. Like an outer body experience, my mind has churned and processed whilst the rest of my has carried on.
Wildcard is waiting to attend the burial but the body of his friend remains in the hospital morgue at present.
Isn’t it strange how life can change, just like that?
Starting from the Middle 