I’m stuck at Monday, 5th of February 2018.
We were at Cafe Pap, Parliament Avenue, a few meters away from what used to be Mateos. It was like the beginning and the end were fated to be right next to each other.
We met for the first time at Mateos – if my memory serves me well – and forged a strong friendship during the nascent days of Uganda Blogger Happy Hour, back when blogging was still new and the hobby of a very few group of Ugandans. Mateos was our blogger’s meeting point every last Thursday of the month. We talked about everything. Life, faith, love, writing, art and creativity. We shared dreams amongst friends from all walks of life. We laughed and loved and lived. But, slowly, time marched on and the UBHH meetings of old faded as people grew up, married, got jobs and kids. But we’d made friends and for some, friends for life.
We met for the last time at Cafe Pap, right next door to Mateos.
You had sent me a late night text – Sunday at 1AM – knowing I’d be awake, as I always am.
“King. I need advice.”
“Joel.” I responded, “How can I help?”
You explained the dilemma. And something, only God knows what, prompted me to ask to chat in person, instead of the usual WhatsApp conversations that make you feel like you’re close to people and yet couldn’t be more further apart.
Monday.
I almost failed to make it and asked if you were okay with waiting a while longer as I sorted out something urgent that had popped up at the last minute and that had derailed my afternoon. Ever patient, you said you’d wait.
Thankfully, I made it.
“Jor, son of El.” I liked calling you that, a play on Jor-El. It spoke to our shared geek culture and to me, it was the knowledge that you were stronger than all of us and that you truly were a Superman.
We talked for a while. About love, life, the future and some bit of the past. You shared your hopes, dreams and fears, and as always, I poked and prodded, asking you to look at the thing that was bothering you from multiple perspectives. We laughed and shared about faith, religion and the little trivialities that occupy our waking moments.
It was a wonderful evening conversation – one of the few meaningful ones I’d had in while – and a couple of days later, I checked in and you said all was well with the issue you had, and you would be fine. All would be well.
I’m stuck on Monday, 5th of February 2018.
And yet, the timeless memories won’t stop. From the time we met to the late hours we worked together. At Node Six, Elemental Edge and Proggie. I watched you grow from a friend to a colleague to an online media expert. You helped us lead and grow a brand – Proggie.ug – from nothing to one of Uganda’s most popular websites. You pushed yourself each day to be better and when the illnesses came, you apologized and smiled through the pain. You said over and over that you will be fine. And that the pain would pass.
But Joel…
Above all else, you taught me – and the hundreds of people who are sharing your about your life right now – to live life to the fullest. To stand for what you believed in. To love, unconditionally and to create incessantly.
Your love for life was incredible and your love for love was even more so. And you wrote, and wrote, and wrote.
You connected people, you changed lives, you brought meaning, purpose and hope to thousands like you who lived with Sickle Cell disease and you stood up every day as a beacon to those that might despair, or give up and you always said all will be well.
And that the pain will pass.
Joel… I am heartbroken. I will miss you, terribly, my friend.
Yesterday I broke down as memories of your goofy smile flooded the internet in an outpouring of grief.
I cried for a friend I would never see again. For a friend I admired, and greatly respected. For a colleague who stood by me as I struggled through entrepreneurship and for a spiritual role model who showed me every day that salvation is always with us, however far from grace we think we have fallen.
I miss you, Joel, my Pollyanna friend. And I wish I had spent one more minute at Cafe Pap, sharing jokes, movies and stories about live, love and faith.
But… Joel. I’m grateful that finally, the pain is no more.
Rest well. Jor, son of El.
May your spirit soar the cosmos. And may the Father, whose love you sought above all else, welcome you with a smile as bright as your own.
Goodbye, my friend.
Goodbye.