madiba

Last week I was driving, listening to an EWN update on Nelson Mandela's condition, and I burst into tears.

Like, burst.

Naturally I've been thinking about him, following the updates. The death of my own grandfather at a similar age is recent enough that I can quickly draw on the associated emotions, my heart knows how this feels. But I didn't expect the wave of emotion I experienced that day and in that moment, it made me feel a little sheepish.

Sure he's Nelson Mandela, but did I have enough of a connection to respond like that? Was my grief credible?
But here's the thing about Mr Mandela, he has always been all about validating each individual's experience.

He visited Betsy Verwoed because her experience of the end of apartheid was valid. He celebrated with all South Africans when we won the Rugby World Cup because our experience was valid. Terrified white business men? Valid. Remorseful prison guards? Valid. Angry youth? Valid.
Nelson Mandela taught us all so much, and not least of all to own our experiences, to share them, to acknowledge them, good or bad, and use them to move forward.

Losing someone is so much about losing the person they allowed you to be. This is at the heart of all of our grief about his imminent death. We already miss the world in which he lived, in which his spirit resided.
Nelson Mandela made us feel free and idealistic, while he is still alive we know that lives on within our nation, when he dies we fear that spirit will become completely eroded by the sobering realities of the work ahead.

I was 15 when he was released from prison. 18 when I helped elect him President. The perfect age to learn lessons in forgiveness, humility and courage. The perfect age to learn to believe in miracles.

He gave me that, and so much more. He gave that to us all, and I think we're all allowed to be very, very sad when he goes.
Go well Madiba, and thank you.