Death is beautiful. Because she is coloured in variety, she is. She is sometimes patient (like a wise woman); at other times not (like a pious prostitute). And, as both yellow and green leaves can fall from the same tree; so it is with usboth young and old can die at any time, without warning.

Without warning, we drop down and dieleaving everything behind and taking nothing away. This is the way of life; this is the way of death; the realm of the dead awaits many more.

Death is beautiful. If and when immortality waits to be revealed out of mortality, death is beautiful. Death laid her icy cold hands on President John Evans Fiifi Atta Mills and took him away from us. And while doing that, she played a gargantuan joke on everyone.

Mills' sudden departure reminds me of something which once happened somewhere. There was an earthquake which destroyed everything but left a hospital standing. Most of the inhabitants of this unfortunate city thought God was playing a joke on them.

So it is in our case. While it may not be God playing a joke on us; he holds all life in his holy hands and is able to withhold or let loose the orderly and non-orderly course of nature. And, we may not know all the answers, but we can know someone who does.JESUS.

Death is inevitable. She snapped her fingers and whisked away the incumbent (who was readying himself to campaign for a second term) President and has thrown his friends, foes and critics into a slight state of confusion, a slight state of mixed emotions.

While there have been rumors as far back as 2008 in relation to then Candidate Mills' health and frailty, I personally never saw this coming. I was a second year student of Keta Senior High School (Ketasco), when the President pitched camp at the school and gave a campaign speech. After the speech, he was escorted to one of our urinals to pass water. Looking at him as he was being escorted to the urinal, he looked fairly healthy and strong.

Fast forward to 2012, a few years into his first term, Mills' health degenerated and not without causes. He was ageing toward 70--man's given death date, according to the Psalmist in the Bible.

He was being heckled by friends and foes and critics. Political opponents called him Professor-Do-Little (a silly snippet of propaganda). Political comrades tried overriding him for their own political gains. And critics like me were always having a go at him.

Like a man, he bared his chest and took it all in good faith; believing in a better Ghana and always doing his individual best in a collective government, but gave up the ghost nevertheless and inevitably.

But, he didn't join the silent ones without playing a part in Ghanaian politics. He did his best. And, whatever the case, whatever the cry; death has no care and no cure. But a Higher Power will call me a liar and bring back the dead to life.

Adieu, John Evans Atta Mills; you played your part, you did your best.

Mother Ghana salutes you. Take a bow, Son, she says. You deserve it. RIP.