TALK TO HER, HOLD HER HANDS, SHE MIGHT BE A BEAUTIFUL STORY THAT IS WASTED AWAY

life is a journey and as well it is a story.long journey for  some of us, short  journey  for some of us,both life's composed of sad and happy stories that makes each of us a beautiful story.if we talk to one another, pray for one in other, hold each others hands then some life's and stories can't end too soon. 

Today I want to talk to you about my mother, beautiful  woman strong ,full of life but strict.Its so anfortunate I can't go back into times and be with her, talk to her, understand her and not judge her, may her soul  rest in peace. 

She died in 2007 from HIV and aids, if I was much older like I am today back then ,then she could  have been so proud of me today, I remember seeing her suffer, at times I could hear her cry in the middle of the night ,she talked to herself, she asked questions and I wondered  what  was wrong  but I was so young  to ask .she could blow her nose till it got blocked, she she woke up in the morning with  her eyes  swollen and red,  her happy soft face turning pale and drowsy and gloomy , slow she was shedding off her weight, then suddenly her house was deserted by her friends. "don't play with Brenda or go to their  house" was a common warning during those times, I only came to realise that they thought that coming to our house or playing with me could make their children sick, then small rashes started forming on her skin, I only knew they were herpes when I was this old, she tried treating  them but they kept reoccurring,her lips turned red then the dark spots  filled her body, she was the talk of the neighbourhood, I could tell that from the gestures  from the people on our way to the market. It reached a point I thought she gave up, she could not stand from her bed, but cry day in day out, then I went to school that was the last day I saw her,when I came back she was rushed to the hospital, I wanted to see her but I was not allowed, only to listen to my grandmother's prayers, asking God to grant her eternal rest, yes that's how she was gone,without good bye, I hated her, why did she leave us ,why.till recently when I completed  my investigation and realised it was not her wish. My mum was stigmatised, she had no shoulder to cry on, it lead to her isolating her self from the community  which claimed she had killed my father with infection (he died in 2002before my mum),the community  which again forced her into wife inheritece, and forced her to shave her hair to mourn my father and appear like a widow. If the community  talked to her, hold her hands she could  be a beautiful  story today.

Stigma is still there in the society today but not as much as it was before.so let's talk, hold hands, touch someone's life let  the become tomorrow's beautiful  story. Because stigma kills more than the infection.