A Death in the Family

I was in class. English III to be exact. Right about the time for dismissal, Mohamed, my 'cousin', called me.
"Andrew, I have bad news," he said.
"What?" I said, thinking that it was some extraneous happening.
"Uncle Tunde is dead."
"I'm not in the right place to hear that right now." I said. I did not know of this 'Uncle Tunde' and I was not at the right place at the right time to hear such news. I hung up.

I called back 30 minutes later while I was in my own room.
"[Mohamed], so what were you saying?"
" Uncle Tunde died man, he was in the hospital on Saturday."
"Who is Uncle Tunde again?"
" My mom's brother-in-law"
Immediately I knew who he was talking about. The amicable family friend who went by the name 'Salvador' was now lying down on a sleet of metal in a morgue.

I did not know what to say. I did not know him well, but my parents knew him for decades. I did not know what to feel, seeing that it was the first death I've experienced of anyone moderately close to me. Am I supposed to feel sad? Am I supposed to mourn for the rest of the week? Or was I to continue my day in Ohio like nothing happened?

I called my mother and my dad. It was mind-crushing to deliver the news to my unknowing parents that one of their best friends has just died. To taint an innocuous soul kills the poisoner as well, not in body, but in spirit.

I played basketball right after as if nothing had happened. As if I had tripped and scraped my pinky. When I finally had some thinking time to myself after dinner, I was bounded by the thought of it. What to think?