By now, every corner of Earth knows of Nelson Mandela’s passing.
It is profound to feel so much sorrow for the passing of a person I have never met. And yet I do. He was unparalleled; his words resonated with peace and exceptional power, like no other.
It surprises me that I cried for him, that I could feel the vacuum his death created from such a distance.
His words, his aura, always felt like a shining torch. Warm. And mighty.
Yes, he was ill and reached an old age of 95, so the end was impending.
Yes, he was not active in the eye of media. But his mere presence was a great comfort, to know that such a legend breathed amongst us.
He fought and represented so much, but mostly peace and freedom. He fought so vigorously for it, and did everything in his power to do so.
So many die in other lands that go unheard, this is true. He was but one man, also true.
But maybe my sadness comes from the knowledge that he, despite, coming to power, and having ample wealth, didn’t sell out as a politician with all the filth and fame that entices others. That he was true to fighting for peace and freedom, when you see otherwise from other politicians. Politicians who make you lose faith in humans, authority and the justice system; yet he was one man that restored it, time and time again.
The nerd in me is reminded of a quote “With great power, comes great responsibility" and he upheld that extraordinarily.
No one is born hating another person because of the colour of his skin, or his background or his religion. People learn to hate, and if they can learn to hate, they can be taught to love, for love comes more naturally to the human heart than its opposite
Rest in peace Madiba.