It was a sunny afternoon when my mom walked into the house and her words were “Your father is dead.” She said it in our dialect…ibo… I immediately went into the bathroom, showered and began walking. I must have walked a couple of miles when I remembered my mother so I ran home to console my mom. The only man she ever knew was gone…died in her arms… I did not cry but inside of me I was hurting emotionally. The last thing he told me was “go to your class good bye”…I was scared…he never said good bye. he would say come home early or when I say I am off to class he would nod.
I always thought my dad was immortal.
I saw him lie in state and I did not know how to think. I carried on until I got older with two ajebutters. The memories of my father is something I share with my ajebutters. I tell them how kind and sweet he was…Nobody can tell me about my dad I always say.
He believed in the education of women. I still remember how he used to whistle and dust his feet and knock the door and my siblings and I would scramble to keep the house neat.
My dad pushed himself to do better. I remember his graduation day and the party we had…I remember the fried meat and jollof rice my mom made…I remember how my dad was beaming with smiles while he had on his graduation outfit…I thought he looked weird…give me a break I was little.
My dad taught me how to cook egusi soup and gosh did I dislike cooking. Now his recipe is my everything…Funny how you hold on to people once they pass on. That is why I say always show love to everyone so they see your love while they are alive.
My dad meant a lot to me…emotionally I am not all the way mended from his death.
But one thing I could not do is forget you daddy.
I believe you loved us all.
Rest in peace.
Your baby girl.
One thing is for sure…I could never forget you.