Living with Death: How to Face Terminal Illness with Grace, Especially in a Country Like Ours

What do you do when you’re told you’re dying—but you’re still needed? What do you say when the world tells you to ‘fight’ but your body is asking you to rest?

In Kenya, death is still taboo. We bury it in jokes, euphemisms, and silence. We don’t prepare for it, even though it’s coming—for all of us. And for those who are sick—especially with terminal or chronic illnesses—it’s even harder to talk about. There’s pressure to "fight," to "be strong," to be a “cancer warrior.” But what if the bravest thing isn't fighting, but making peace?

And yet, for a parent with young children, a single mother, a man providing for generations, how do you begin to make peace with death when you know the world may not be kind to those you leave behind?

This is the emotional tension we must speak to.

What Is Life, Really? The Kenyan Understanding vs. the Deeper Reality

In Kenya, life is often defined by activity—movement, breath, work, hustle. That’s why we love the phrase “bora uhai”—as long as there’s life, there’s hope.

But what is living? Is it just breathing on a machine? Is it lying in a hospital bed for months, unresponsive, while your family sells land to keep the drip going? Is it life if there’s no dignity left?

We must ask ourselves: what does it mean to live well—and what does it mean to die well?

To live is not just to exist. To live is to connect, to love, to create, to forgive, to be present. And ironically, it’s often death—especially through illness—that reminds us of this truth.

For the Terminally Ill: You Deserve Dignity, Not Desperation

If you're living with a terminal illness, you deserve more than the pressure to perform strength. You deserve honest conversations, proper care, and the right to choose how you want to live the rest of your days.

That doesn't mean giving up. It means redefining what fighting looks like. It may look like choosing palliative care. It may look like making memories with your family. It may look like writing letters to your children for when you're gone, or teaching your spouse how to manage finances. It may be as quiet as learning to rest, or as brave as writing a will.

For many, especially breadwinners, it feels selfish to slow down. But preparing for your exit might be the most selfless thing you can do.

For the Family: Support Looks Different at the End

For those watching a loved one suffer, support doesn’t always mean pushing for another treatment, another doctor, another fundraiser. Sometimes, support is presence—just being there. Sometimes it's allowing your person to rest. Sometimes, it’s preparing for a world without them—not because you’ve given up, but because you love them enough to accept what’s coming.

The pressure to “do everything” often leads to emotional burnout and financial ruin. So many Kenyans are left with crushing hospital bills, land sold in desperation, loans taken in grief, and hearts heavy with regret. All because we did not know how—or when—to say goodbye.

We don’t talk enough about the people who keep fighting not because they want to, but because they feel guilty leaving behind children, spouses, or aging parents. We must hold space for their fear, their guilt, and their humanity—and support them in finding peace without shame.

The Gift in Dying Slowly

It may seem strange, but there is a gift in knowing that death is coming. Illness gives us time that sudden death robs us of. Time to prepare, to heal relationships, to ask for forgiveness, to give it. Time to love better. Time to tell the people who matter most how much they mean to you.

It’s not the gift we asked for—but it’s a gift nonetheless.

What Does Dying Well Look Like in Kenya?

• Writing a will even if you don’t have much. It saves your family stress and infighting.

• Speaking openly with your spouse and children about your condition and your wishes.

• Choosing palliative or hospice care when the treatments become more harmful than helpful.

• Spending time intentionally, even if you’re limited to a hospital bed. Words, smiles, stories, and blessings matter.

• Preparing emotionally and spiritually, through prayer, journaling, therapy, or whatever brings you peace.

So, What’s the Sensible Thing to Do When Illness Comes?

There is no one-size-fits-all answer. But here are some questions that might help guide you:

• Am I fighting because I still have hope—or because I feel guilty letting go?

• Have I made peace with the fact that death is coming, whether soon or later?

• What do my loved ones truly need from me right now? Money? Memories? Guidance? Closure?

• Am I allowing myself to rest and receive care—or am I punishing myself with unrealistic expectations?

• Have I given my family the tools—emotionally and practically—to live after I’m gone?

We Must All Prepare for Death—Sick or Not

Even if you’re not ill, this is your call to live differently. To prepare yourself and your loved ones. To love more boldly. To slow down. To make memories. To ask yourself what matters—and to live like you know time is finite.

Because it is.

Call to Reflection

• What does dying well look like to you?

• If you were told you had limited time left, what would you stop doing—and what would you start?

• Are you living in a way that allows your loved ones to grieve without regret?

• Have you started preparing your affairs so your family won’t suffer more than they need to?

• If you knew death was near, what would you say to the people you love?