He passed away quietly in late May, alone in his apartment in Azusa, Los Angeles County. His final days were marked by a silence that no human being should ever endure.
Patrick was once a proud father of three: Lawrence, Laura, and Lauren. Their mother-his wife-passed away in 2017. Since then, life became unbearably quiet.
Patrick took his own life, leaving behind a note and a phone with just one name in it-his son Lawrence.
Life had pushed him to the edge. He was living with a grade 4 brain tumor, at time experiencing memory loss, confusion, and pain. It was the kind of suffering you cannot always explain with words. His heart had been wounded many times-by grief, by separation, by distance, by time. He had known love and he had known loss.
After his wife’s passing, he tried to rebuild. He found love again with a Filipino partner, and they had a daughter. But that too was taken from him-mother and child moved away, to the Philippines, and he never saw the little one again. That toddler had become his new light, and when she left, something inside him broke even more.
His relationship with his older children had grown strained over time. Life happens. Distance happens. Wounds do not always get a chance to heal. His daughters had chosen to walk their own path, and even Lawrence-his only son-had grown distant. But Lawrence never fully let go. They would still speak, every so often.
When Patrick died, the county prepared to cremate him. No one had claimed the body.
But then, Lawrence showed up.
He lives in Las Vegas now, working, trying to figure life out like many 28-year-olds do. The last time he visited Kenya, he was just seven. That was the last time he saw his grandmother-Patrick’s mother.
And in an unbearably cruel twist of fate, today, Patrick’s mother-overwhelmed by grief, collapsed and passed away too. She had just escorted mourners who had come to support her for losing a son.
I came to know of this story after a post on Wanderlust called for any Kenyan in Los Angeles who could help. I reached out. I was connected to Wambui, who then shared Lawrence’s number. After several tries, I finally got through to him
Lawrence opened up to me about his father. He told me about the man who once served two tours of duty in the U.S. Marines. A man who wanted the very best for his children. Life after the military changed him-perhaps in ways not even he understood. But beneath all the layers of pain and distance, Lawrence still saw his dad as a good man. When sober, when smiling, he was the most loving father in the world.
He told me his dad would call and cry about missing his youngest daughter. That he left behind a note that simply said how much he loved Lawrence. And when Lawrence scrolled through Patrick’s phone, he found his own name as the only saved contact.
And that broke him.
Today, Lawrence is grieving not just a father and grandmother, but the complicated weight of everything that was, and everything that could have been. Yet in his voice, I also heard something else-hope. Because now, the Kenyan community has surrounded him. A WhatsApp group is up. Plans are underway. People are showing up. Not for a headline, not for attention-but because this is what community does. This is who we are.
Patrick’s relatives had hoped to come to America to send off their son. Now they must bury his mother instead. And his father-an old man now-must be comforted in Kenya with this double heartbreak.
Lawrence says he no longer feels alone. That for the first time in a while, he feels lifted. Last few weeks he has cried, but now he feels strong; the community is carrying him. And when all this is over, he hopes to travel to Kenya, not just to grieve, but to honor his father and now his grandmother in a way they deserve
I am hoping I can reach out to his sisters. Because grief does not have to divide. Maybe, just maybe, there is still a way to bring them together-one more time-for daddy.
If you are a Kenyan in America, can you chip in? Cashapp, Venmo or Zelle me. We also have a WhatsApp group and prayer sessions. Let’s do this. (DM me)
In the book of Job we read: “When I looked for good, then evil came unto me: and when I waited for light, there came darkness.”
