Posted by Evans Wafula on April 11, 2017
Early last year, I lost my younger brother Goddard Lubisia-Wafula to a rare and aggressive form of hemorrhagic stroke know as intracerebral.
After a long battle of fighting through round after round of hypertension, and not knowing he had been given only hours to live, he requested his colleagues who accompaned him to the Coptic hospital to call me. I made a quick rush to the hospital and managed to spent a few minutes with her before he was admitted to the Intensive Care Unit (ICU). Before l was asked to give consent for his admission, the only words he could muster with his voice fading were: “You have come.” That was more than enough to bring on tears, but not wanting to upset him, I waited to cry until I was out of the hospital.
The next few days would be more difficult than I could ever imagine. My brother was on hospice, and breathing with the help of oxygen – as the blood pressure got higher and condition deteriorated and swelling and pressure increased.
While sitting in a recliner in his hospital room, l watched as he took his final breath. His eyes were open as he defiantly faced death, and then he quietly drifted away as l stood confused and helplessly.

To say that it was heart-breaking to be by his side when my brother passed is an understatement. But it was also an uncommon privilege I shared with his friends, my siblings and my father. As his pastor said at his memorial, hypertension may have claimed his body, but it never took his soul. Of that, we are certain.

In the time since my brother passed, I’ve replayed those final moments over and over in my mind. I’ve had several people tell me, “He waited for you.” That’s not easy to hear. Would he have lived longer if I’d waited to rush to the hospital? But then I think back to his final words to me before hanging up on phone a few weeks earlier, “Can we start having more lunches together.”

I remember the immense feeling of grief immediately hitting me like a tidal wave. Denial quickly followed, as did anger. In a blur of hours, close friends and family came to pay their final respects. When evening fell, it was impossible to deny the finality of his death when the doctor ascertained his death.

Attending funerals and memorials was a fact of life for me growing up. The hardest before my brother’s was without a doubt the passing of my mother, Ruth Kabuchanga, my brother, Kennedy Masika and my sister Alice Maero. Coincidentally, Alice and Goddard passed on at Coptic Hospital.
But the feeling of loss after my brother’s death was like no other I’ve ever experienced. We grew up together and held each other whenever things got tough. He was my best friend and my inspiration.
It is, however, of some small comfort knowing that my brother didn’t want his friends and family to mourn him for too long; he wished that we celebrate his life as much.

Since his passing, the immense grief I at first felt has slowly subsided. Occasionally, it will return briefly, and then I’ll find myself quietly weeping, confused, or lost in my thoughts. It can set in anywhere: In the car while traveling alone, in an elevator while at work, or even while just sleeping or writing.

My solace comes in the form of sharing his memory. The first and immediate task was a sad one: when l was told to write his obituary, the second task was writing his life’s story, and reading it at his memorial.

Perhaps what puzzled many  is the message that my brother left on his Facebook page the very day he was taken ill :
“I decided that since the sun was taking longer to come out and shine, let me come out shine and make a change in someone's life . Thanks for the opportunity”.
It’s comforting to know that my brother  impacted so many lives, and that people are giving generously in his memory. But it’s an even greater task to ensure my niece and nephew will truly continue to feel their father’s love.

Sent from Samsung tablet.
Posted by Evans Wafula on June 7, 2016
Eulogy of My brother, my friend ,
Shared by Evans Wafula on 06/07/2016
Some people’s life purpose is given during life, but for others it is given after death.

“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck." Ecclesiastes 3:1-2

It is the LORD who goes before you. He will be with you; he will not leave you or forsake you. Do not fear or be dismayed.” Deuteronomy 31:8

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.” Psalm 23:4
“And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.” Romans.

A eulogy is normally a speech given to honor a life or give an account of a life at a funeral. But the eulogy of my brother Goddard will not be one we will traditionally think of. The eulogy of Goddard Aniley Lubisia will not only be given at his funeral, nor in the coming days after he has been laid to rest. In the coming days the eulogy of my brother Goddard will be given in the lives of his friends, his children, his siblings, our mother and father as a celebration of his life.*
"I decided that since the sun was taking longer to come out and shine, let me come out shine and make a change in someone's life . Thanks for the opportunity."

The sunshine that he shined in our lives, and create thoughtful discourse of the opportunity that he cherished in his last days should be deeply rooted in our lives life purpose is given during life, but for others it is given after death. So it has been for my brother, my friend Bishar

Yet that is not the only lesson I learned reflecting on these three eulogies. I am learning something at this age, that my brother-self never could. Watching my brother years ago, I didn’t understand the lesson; but as I watched my brother on the night he was being wheeled to the HDU and watched him again on the day he was pronounced, the lesson has become plainer to me. God will place you in situations you never anticipated walking in order to serve Him and His purpose and you never know who is watching how you serve. Such as Christ the night before the Cross… The grief of the Garden on Gethsemane, where Christ grieved and cried tears of blood, did not circumvent the purpose of the Cross or the service that was to be done in His death. When you are called to serve God, it’s not something you can put down…even in ßx…even in grief. The disciples watched Christ’s suffering on the cross and His service and were changed; I watched and hard my brother sing the words of (Angela chibalonza Kaa nami-Abide With Me) and learned about serving in spite of sorrow; and I along with a few of his friends watched my brother the Lord one more time from his sick bed. Today, many have joined us to witness the demonstrated courage and faith in the midst of the unthinkable as we give God the glory and honor He deserves in spite of our heartbreak.

None of us know what the future holds or how God will heal even this wound in our family , but rest assured it will be for His purpose and it will work together for good. Every tear, every sorrow has a purpose. I believe it. Do you?

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