Posted in CocoAbba

THE DAY I DIED: A memoir

©G. G. Joseph

This story is in honor of humans world over who have ever died but cannot find words worthy to describe the experience and to the curious ones who wonder what life after death is.

My mother used to say that “What has never died can never truly live.” It took a first-hand experience with death for me to appreciate these words.

Let me tell you something quick here, Death is proud; with an ego larger than life, he doesn’t go where he’s wanted.

He loves the fear, the panic and dread that comes with watching your life ebb away.

For anyone who has died before, you’d agree with me that death is painless and blissful. You will never be more alive than you are when dead. Your senses are heightened and enhanced, human possibilities disappear, emotions are amplified. There’s really nothing like it on earth. A close shave would be to compare it with Samsung’s  upgrade from S10 to S20+. You see the difference? Ah ha!

However, the moments before death are the real torture. You see your life dangling before your eyes, you see yourself grappling at the flailing ends of survival and though you see a vivid picture of beauty ahead, the fear of the angel you do not know grips you and you hold tight to the hem of the devil you know, until…

I was 12 when I died.

Only 12, but old enough to die.

Till the moment I transited from death to life, sorry, from life to death, it felt so unreal yet so real.

Another thing you should probably know about death is that nobody dies until they decide to give up the ghost. (Sometimes it’s a forced decision, but they decide all the same.)

It was an evening like every other, but the decisions I took would change the course of my life forever.

That evening as I saw life and death splayed before me. I knew I had to make a choice. I chose death, not because I loved adventures, but because it held the promise of life– a better life. So I decided to die.

I knelt in a church on a cold seat some 8 years ago and I died.

I saw Life, reach out through the cold hands of death with eyes of love and I responded.

I embraced death.

I died to an old life and was raised to newness. A life with limitless possibilities. A life too good to be true. A life that births life. The God-life.

Funny how after dying to death and living, I went back to death and started dying. You see, when you’ve grown all your life living dead it’s an arduous task learning how to live alive. So, I kept on living dead while alive, until the death-life consumed the life-death and the death was swallowed up in victory. (If we were in church I’m pretty sure you’d shout a Hallelujah!)

So you see, this is not just a story of how I died, but of how the day I died became the day I lived.

And this is an invitation to life… The life… For “what is dead can never die again.”

And “what is undead may never truly live.”

Which are you?



The transition is in the seconds between when you ask Life into your death, believe Life can swallow up your death and receive Life into your death.

Life has a name – Jesus. Ask Him in today.

Welcome to the Life!

©G. G. Joseph

Posted in Biblical retellings


Her wandering gaze caught on the note stamped on the headboard of his crib. One of several pasted all over the room. She’d loved this one and had it pasted on his crib for keepsakes.

A crib

With misty eyes she read:

Dear Abba,

It’s my birthday.

I woke up to cake and a birthday song. Eema says I’m a year older. Do you know what that is? Ah! You’re omniscient; skips my mind at times. It’s strange you know, the shoes I had last year don’t fit anymore. This is the real miracle, Pops. 😁😁😅

Eema says I’m growing, so I reminded her of her ancestors and how we made their shoes stay their size for 40 years. She loves it when I tell her history, she says I say it like it’s still today. Probably, because the concept of measured time is still like rocket science (that’s a simile right there, my teacher says this is the hardest thing to learn, I laughed so hard that I was picked out, story for another day).

Umm, I have to go do the dishes now okay. Talk soon, Pops!
(Yay, We have a Mexican neighbor, actually he’s Chinese, but they don’t know, remember his twentieth generation father migrated tha… Oh… Gotta go, gotta go now)

Two tear drops stained the note.

Suddenly coming to, she wiped her eyes as the note dropped freely falling from her trembling hands.

Her baby boy.

She could still see his smiles as he toddled and stumbled, hear his stammers as he stuck on pronouncing the word synagogue at 3 years and feel his hugs as he left for school each morning. She’d give everything to have him in her hands again.

Son and mother bonding time.

Her son.

The one who would rebuke his brothers for disobeying her, take Jude cycling and do the dishes after the evening meal.

Siblings playing

Her Lord.

The one they crucified on Friday. The one she prepared spices for last night.

Blinking away memories, she shawled-up and stepped into the bleak sunrise, basket in hand. The ladies had begged her not to accompany them to the grave as it would be overwhelming for her.
She waited their return patiently…

Was that light she saw? No, it couldn’t be! Not possible!
Yet, it was.

The tears of joy pooled on her shawl as she knelt in worship at the sight of the glorified Christ.

Glorified Christ

And as she bowed her heart in worship, hope rose in her and peace flooded her soul as heart soared.

It’s Easter!

May we behold the glorified Christ!
Amen! ❤️

©G.G. Joseph

#easter #retellings #dearabba #letters #motherlove #crib #Christ #resurrection