Kaafa was a smoker for well over half of his 89 years of life. He ate to his heart’s desire and lived a life devoid of worry. Yet, he’s never had any major health issues .. until Maama’s condition deteriorated.

A little over a week after Maama was intubated and put on mechanical ventilation, Kaafa’s condition deteriorated significantly. It appeared as though Kaafa had given up on life itself. He wasn’t eating, he wasn’t sleeping and neither was he conversing with anyone. Efforts to humour him were in vain.

Similar to Maama, he was wheeled off to the hospital and subsequently admitted for Urinary Retention, in the same hospital, in the same building that Maama was at. He was literally just a few minutes away from her. Was this destiny? Was this fate? Was this a higher power re-uniting soulmates? It was hard not to think so.

Every single day during the course of his admission, there wasn’t a moment that would pass without Kaafa asking about Maama. ‘Where is Maama? Is she getting better? Who is with her now? Does she talk? Is she able to eat? Doctors are looking after her, no?’.The same questions would repeat hour after hour, day after day. 

On the 4th of December 2015, Maama was put on palliative care only. This meant that it could be a few hours or days before Maama’s heart stops and she’s gone. This also meant that we needed to allow for Kaafa to get closure and say his goodbyes, if he was willing to, pronto.

‘I can’t bear seeing her in that condition. I won’t be able to take it’, was what Kaafa initially decided. With a little bit of moral support and persuasion he eventually decided to see Maama for one last time. We were not sure how he’d take it. Would he break down? Could his heart actually, literally, bear this much emotional pain? We weren’t sure of the consequences but we decided to comply with Kaafa’s decision and took him to see her anyhow.

We were stupefied.

Kaafa was wheeled close to Maama and he attempted to stand up but stumbled. The nurse then lowered Maama’s bed so that Kaafa could see her face, while seated. He looked at Maama’s face with a troubled expression yet with calmness and grace. He took her hand in his, to his forehead first and then kissed her hand ever so gently.

‘Okay. I’m finished. Let’s go back.’, he said.  When his wheelchair was moved back he quickly changed his mind and said, ‘I want to see her one more time.’. We complied and gave him the moments he needed. He looked at her face and a minute or two later said, ‘Okay. I’m done now. Let’s go.’.

I saw tears rolling down my mother’s face, as she quickly turned around wiping them off. I looked at my husband and saw the same on his face. I saw the nurse’s lips quiver. Even the Doctor attending to Maama turned around and walked away hurriedly.

What we just saw was the parting of soulmates.