Today I attended the funeral of a dear colleague who passed away suddenly on Monday morning. It was sad because he was such a gentleman.
You know one of those rare youngmen that open the door for you and call you madam simply because you are a lady not because you are older.
Thats the kind of man Edward Thamsanqa Maphosa was. He was the last born in his family. The apple of his father’s eye since his mum passed away when he was only 5.
“Edward was more of a friend than a son to me” the father told us holding back tears when we went to pay our respects as a class on the fateful day.
His elder brother Thabani tried to be strong but his chest was like a translucent object to me. He had a lump in his heart. This lump clogged his chest and throat such that he could barely speak.
He wanted to scream but he could not, he had to be strong for his father and his sisters. If he could however, he would scream, and cry out to God and ask why he had taken his best friend and only brother.
Since their mum passed away, they had only their father to look up to. He had never remarried dedicating his whole existence to his children’s development and success in life.
Now that this, his last born is gone, just two years before he was to graduate from Nust what does he do?
The bible says theres a time for everything. A time to live, a time to die. A time to laugh and a time to cry. Why then don’t men cry.
I really wished Mr Maphosa and his son could cry. That they could wail and moan and ask the question why without having to be men about it.
I felt their pain and I shed tears for them. Me who was just a classmate was able to cry more than those that knew and loved him more than I ever could.
When times are hard, when the world shows its true colours, when pain haunts you, Why don’t men cry?
buzzybusi 