Good bye Memo...

 Before she was Cashlips to the social media world, she was Memory Hazvinei to my father who named her. Remember (Memory), it does not matter (Hazvinei), because she was loved, she was a gift, he said.

With piercing eyes and a naughty but shy smile, Memo, was my muzikuru (niece). Stubborn, self-assured, elegant in style, never letting the veneer of her insecurities and struggles show. (Who does not have those?) She lived in the glare of social media in latter years but grew up grounded by her grandmother (Mbuya), her mother, aunts and uncles. But really, she was Mbuya's child, relegating me as the youngest child to another position. With mbuya, they fought and made up in ways that only those that know unconditional love do. She crossed valleys for her grandmother, showering her with all manner of gifts, acknowledging her role to the world.

She grew up under my watch. Looking to me as a big brother. Sitting on 2 continents, we saw each other occasionally. I was a distant spectator, saying hello once in a while, somewhat thinking she would go on into our old age. I was not a Cashlips follower, giving her breadth and freedom to be that persona unencumbered by my conservative streak. 

Then she died. Just like that - in a dramatic, traumatic way. I received a photo of her in ICU, in the morning, an hour later a call. She will not wake make it, my sister said, unless there is a miracle. Miracles are rare in modern times. By the end of the day, she was off life support and gone. In as dramatic a way as she had regaled her followers on facebook. Gone.

rest easy, hazvinei hazvo...