Memories of Friendship
A Heartfelt Reunion at the Hospital.
The hospital smelled of antiseptic and anxiety. Mary met me at the entrance, her eyes red from crying. She led me to James's room, where he lay connected to a maze of tubes and monitors. The sight of my friend, once so full of life, now so vulnerable, hit me hard.
I pulled up a chair beside his bed, memories washing over me. James and I had always been inseparable. From our days in Kawale, we shared everything—dreams, secrets, and countless adventures.
One of my favorite memories was when we decided to build a treehouse. We were about twelve, full of enthusiasm but lacking in skills. We scavenged wood from around the neighborhood and borrowed tools from our parents. It was a disaster waiting to happen, but we didn't care. We spent days hammering nails and sawing wood, imagining the grandest treehouse ever. It collapsed within a week, but the laughter and fun we had stayed with us.
Another time, we entered a local talent show. James insisted we perform a comedy skit. He wrote the script, and we rehearsed for weeks. On the night of the show, we were a hit. James's comedic timing was impeccable, and the audience loved us. We didn't win, but that didn’t matter. The joy of performing together was enough.
As we grew older, our paths diverged. I found solace and purpose in my faith, while James sought fulfillment in his career and social life. He went on to work for one of the most honored law firms, and six months down the line, he opened his own law firm. Despite our differences, our bond remained.
When I learned about James’s accident, it felt like the ground had been pulled from under me. He had been involved in a terrible crash, his AUDI RS 5 2016 beyond repair. He hit fifteen people at a trading center, and his injuries were severe. His left leg was amputated, and his back and right hand were badly fractured.
As I sat by his bed, Mary recounted the events of the past few days. James had been silent for three days after the accident. On the fourth day, he asked for me and another pastor friend to visit him. He wanted to start a new life, she said. I could see the determination in his eyes, even through the pain.
"James," I whispered, squeezing his hand. "I'm here."
His eyes fluttered open, and he managed a weak smile. "Thank you," he whispered back. "I have so much to tell you."
In that moment, I knew our journey together was far from over. James's story was just beginning, and I would be there every step of the way.
This is part two, for part one please click here.
Photo used with permission by Jc-Gellidon-Unsplash