This Post Was Supposed To Be About Interpretations Of Space That Find Room Where There Is None

That even coasting can be interrupted, this time by a bureaucratic set of words spoken over the phone. “Funeral arrangements are being made.” Cremation. Lang’ata Cemetery. I ask a close friend whether, after all these years, there is still room for burial at Lang’ata. He reminds me that there is always space for the wealthy (perhaps, as Kenyans say, “money has been poured” and this money has created room in a space where there was none, almost magically). I have been reflecting on my sister’s words (“funeral arrangements are being made”) to feel around for the ease with which her bureaucratic phrase coheres with the real grief in her tonal delivery. And this for a relative who was an afterthought. But grief often precedes and supersedes mourning, which is why grief is real even when the mourning is not.