On: The Timeless-ness of Grief
This article is best enjoyed whilst listening to the song “This Time Tomorrow" by Brandi Carlile - https://youtu.be/6QeTgvx9R94
If you haven’t been too busy dealing with life like the rest of us, then you probably caught wind of the fact that global superstar Davido dropped a new album recently called "Timeless." The album was released to rave reviews from fans and critics alike. It is also currently topping various chats and trending across various social media platforms. And it is comforting to see Davido back in the spotlight after the unfortunate incident of his toddler’s passing a few months ago. And I dare say that it’s even more comforting that he chose not to grieve on this album. In other words, from the first track to the last, all your auditory senses will be met with tunes that are either danceable or dance-like, with a few that take the expected route of just being plain braggadocio.
It’s one of the main reasons I have enjoyed the album so far: the fact that Davido has chosen not to share his grief with us through music. Yes, a lot of his fans and critics expected that, but he chose not to. And this is as comforting as the realization that sometimes the best ways to deal with loss are timeless—pun intended. You don’t have to succumb to the yearnings of how the world expects you to grieve. As an artist of his caliber, I am quite sure most wanted to hear a sound about his toddler, just so they could cry with him and say things like “My God, I understand his pain.” But as endearing as such a sense of sympathy might seem, it is often riddled with the woe of misguided expectations aimed at those whose grief should be personal to them.
Even in this digital age, there should be something sacred about what people choose to share or not share with us, the former being just as sacred as the latter.
Everyone grieves differently. Everyone should grieve differently. Everyone grieves. And how they choose to deal with a painful loss like the death of a child should be completely up to them. And while this is something most understand somewhat, the reality, especially when it comes to celebrities, is that we are always so eager to know how these stars we look up to do it. We are always keen to know if, like us, they too drown themselves in sad songs and wallow in their own bodily filth. We want to see their eyes red from the long nights of tears so we can say, “Yes, I had such red eyes too, when my child died.” We, therefore, expect some sort of insight into their grief because, for some reason, we feel it is somehow owed to us for our loyalty to their artistry, but it is not. And I am glad that Davido, by way of the content of his new album, appears to have understood this perfectly.
And on this note, I want to extend my condolences to the family of a mutual on Twitter who recently passed. He was an amazing writer and one of the coolest dudes you’d ever have the privilege of crossing paths with online. He loved movies, loved books, and was never one to share an unkind word, even on a platform where it is notoriously okay to be mean and savage. His death came as a shock to me, and even though I never knew him personally, he and I were acquainted enough for his loss to still sting even from afar. And I hope his loved ones find peace and comfort at this point in their lives. I hope they are able to grieve in their own way and celebrate his life as best they can. To those of us who only knew him through his persona on Twitter, he would be greatly missed. Rest in peace, Obinna Emeka aka @scenomaniac_
Keanu Reeves was asked the question, “What do you think happens when we die?” And his answer was simply, “I think when we die, the people that love us will miss us.”
Therefore, to my dear friend and brother, John, I know how much you must miss your dear sister right now. And I know words can never be enough to quell the pain of an aching heart, and I won’t try to claim that I understand what you must be going through. But I do wish you the strength and comfort you need to grieve through it. John, I know how much this loss hurts. You were closest to her. I remember back in our university days how she was always the first person you’d reach out to for anything you needed. She was like a second mom to you. It hurts to know that there is nothing I can do to help with the hurt. But I hope you are able to find some comfort in the fact that those we lose to death are never dead in our memories. So, I hope those beautiful memories you had with her bring you respite at this time. May her soul rest well.
Cheers!