“The Day the World Stood Still: What I Saw the Day Heaven Took Empress”

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There are some moments in life that no amount of strength, no amount of faith, and no amount of preparation can truly prepare you for.

It’s 3AM and I’m back in that hospital room again—without meaning to be.

I was just scrolling through Facebook, trying to distract my thoughts like I usually do when the weight of her absence becomes too much to carry… and then I saw it. A post made by a woman who had been admitted in the same hospital ward as Empress the day she died.

Reading her words broke me all over again.


"Yesterday afternoon, a young lady was wheeled into the ward.
She looked so fragile and out of breath 

She was immediately placed on oxygen while blood was transfused into her.

I could feel her pains cause  she was literally struggling to live.

She came with a team of men.

Like men literally mounted for her outside.

Her brothers.

Everything they (hospital) asked for, they provided.

Her mother was deligently by her side.

You could see the tiredness written all over her face.


Later in the night, I went to her bedside to offer some words of "get well soon".

Then she called out my name.

Wow, small world, she even knew me.

It seems every where i go to people know me😅

Turns out she's was  junior from secondary school.

I spoke some words of encouragement to her and went back to my bed.

At night she couldn't sleep.

She was so restless.

I would later go to her bedside to talk to her again.

This morning her brothers were there

again.


Turns out she's the only daughter with alot of brothers.

This afternoon, her doctor came with a team of students to treat and teach.

I jokingly told her that she had become the subject matter in school.

Before then, all she kept saying was asking God for mercy.

How she begged and cried.

She prayed.

She prayed so hard.

She struggled.

Her mum prayed.

They brought someone to pray.

Her brothers were there.

They were ready to move the earth for her.

But, as God will have it, we lost her this evening.


I feel for that woman (her mum) because even today she was saying it's her daughter that’s supposed to bury her not the other way round 😭

Her brothers😓 i can only imagine…"


She was talking about my sister.

Every sentence felt like a blade to the heart. I could see it all again. The oxygen mask. The transfusions. The quiet war she was fighting with her body. How her voice trembled when she asked for mercy. How she called out for God again and again. How she was still so polite, still full of love—even while dying.

The woman mentioned a “team of men” who came with her.


Those were her brothers.
We were there. Standing guard. Helpless. But willing to move the earth if it would’ve saved her.
The hospital could’ve said “bring the moon,” and we would’ve gone looking.


And then there was our mother. My mum.
Her face carried the weight of desperation no mother should ever have to know.
She didn’t sit. She didn’t eat. She just stood by her only daughter, whispering prayers, trying to swap her own life for hers.

"This afternoon, her doctor came with a team of students to treat and teach.
I jokingly told her that she has become the subject matter in school..."

Even in pain, Empress smiled when people spoke to her. She was always light in every dark place.

But that night, the light went out.


Her last words were prayers. Her last moments were full of begging God to let her stay. But she still slipped away… and I watched the strongest woman I know—my mother—completely shatter.

"It’s her daughter that’s supposed to bury her, not the other way round..."


There’s no script for this kind of pain.
No quote. No sermon.
Nothing makes it make sense.

Empress wasn’t just my sister. She was our only girl. Our jewel. Our calm. She had so much to live for, and yet we had to say goodbye in a hospital room filled with machines, prayers, and silent heartbreak.

People say “time heals.”


But they never say how long it takes.
They don’t tell you that even months later, a random post on Facebook can drag you back to the worst day of your life—and break you all over again.

This post isn’t just a tribute. It’s a scream from the part of my soul that hasn’t healed, and maybe never will.

To Empress:
We remember.
We grieve.
We love you, still.

Always.

—


For Empress, always.

— Jaes


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