Written piece
The Ghanaian flute dirge
Linda Sammy
Ghana
About this piece
My submission unveils a part of my journey through grief since the recent passing of my late mom, the expectation to move on and the difficulty in escaping from pain that hurts more than the word means.
The Ghanaian flute dirge is a sound that carries sorrow. I could never sit through till the end. I hoped it'd be far from my home. It was mostly played in the evening before radio announcements and I remained curious why grief was mainly attributed to the passing of a loved one. I thought that some problems of life could hurt deeper than a demise you knew not of. Yet now, I go about my day trying to get past pain that cuts deep as a sharp sword. I know that after a year, I wouldn't be allowed to grief the way I do now. I ought to have moved on because that's what everybody does. We're never the first to grief. Hence, our stories may never be too sad enough. Everybody moves on, but do they?
I've been battling the “What ifs”. What if I'd fought for her more? What if I'd been a little faster? What if I'd prayed even more? But there are no answers: not even echoes. I'm told that she's in a better place; I know and believe. But ever since she left, I don't breathe the same anymore. If the legend is true, then she followed me home the day she passed. There was one bird in the sky for every mile and a butterfly on land. It touched my hand and I ask, “If it hurts you so much to leave, why go?”.
I heard the Ghanaian flute dirge play again today and I couldn't listen still. I haven't found the perfect escape from the pain of grief. I wish I could wake up from this dream. But it hurts the most that my cries will never be loud or my story sad enough because, we're never the first to grief.