“Death is not the opposite of life, but part of it.”- Haruki Murakami
“Death, be not proud, though some have called thee mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so; For those, whom thou think’st thou dost overthrow, Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me… One short sleep past, we wake eternally, And Death shall be no more.” – John Donne.
Two days ago I woke up to the passing of a beloved aunty, Mrs Pauline Kadiri, a retired top-level staff member of JAMB. Affable, warm, selfless, and giving.
Aside from worshipping with her at the Apostolic Nunciature almost every morning of the week, she was without a doubt one of the kindest persons I know. Aunty Pauline was always smiling, her hand on my shoulder, asking of everyone in my family.
She was a devout Catholic, her knees bowing on the knee-stool, always praying. When she sees a friend, an acquaintance, or family, her eyes light up, and that famous smile of hers would light up a room. She was also very soft-spoken; you could never hear her voice above a certain decibel.
Aunty Pauline Kadiri was a very proper woman.
Over the years, I have observed her live her life in measured tones; I have never seen her lose her temper. She always seemed to be at ease, at peace with everyone.
Mrs Kadiri also embodied the true meaning of an intertribal marriage, having originally come from Delta State and gotten married to Dr. Alex Kadiri from the Igala extract of Kogi State.
She was technically our wife, a much-beloved one at that.
As life went on, she cared for and minded her husband all her life and more so in the latter days of his life when he was ailing. Dr. Alex Kadiri passed on last year, and we took turns to condole Aunty, who was crestfallen at losing her life partner and her friend.
As news of her passing in faraway London filtered into the nunciature, it was heart-wrenching. Who would have thought?
We gathered in pockets of four, discussing what could have happened.
A passing so soon after her husband.
As churches go, everyone seems to have a dedicated seat within the church where one has worshipped for a long time. Aunty Pauline always sat behind me.
Yesterday morning, I looked back, and her seat was empty.
Death often never gives notice. So aunty is gone just like that. Never to be seen in the corridors or outside the nuncio, where we would gather after mass and exchange pleasantries before we run off to our daily grind.
Death is so permanent, so final. But as most of the comments that have come on the church platform attest, Aunty Pauline was a kindhearted person who loved God, who showed everyone what it is like to be a Christian.
Continue with the article on https://businessday.ng/columnist/article/life-is-a-whisper-the-passing-of-mrs-pauline-kadiri/
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