I walk alone along in the dark night three streets away from home
staring blindly at the starry sky trying to find several answers to the
many questions from my daughter. Where is mummy? She has asked over a
thousand times and the echoes of her single question had kept echoing in
my head like for ever. I miss her so much as well and I cannot stop
asking why it all has to be the way it is. Looking back now, I remember
every detail like it were all now. She was lost forever. As I had known
it, the event replayed itself before my very eyes and I love her the
more. And as I walk alone, I smell her beside me. Talking to me in a
tones I m familiar with. and she said to, tell her…
She wakes me up. She
is having contractions. I walk her around the room. The sun was just
rising. She sits by the window. The first rays of light hitting her
face. She smiles at me in a way that I have never seen before. Like she
has a secret she can’t wait to share. She’s beautiful. Calm. I sit by
her side counting the minutes between contractions and delivery. I call
for an ambulance. I helped her to her feet. She smiles and tells me she
loves me. That she just had the most amazing dream. That she was
swimming underwater in a lake and she could breath. It was night yet she
could see. Because the moon light made paths through the waters like
fingers pointing the way. She was happy swimming among the fishes. And
by the time the doctors arrived, her face had gone ash white. Her eyes
were distant. But her grip was still strong. When her strengths failed
her during delivery, they cut into her under my watch while I stream
blood and sweat and they pulled you out. You were white but almost turn
blue black. Not breathing. The cord was still wrapped around your little
neck. The doctor worked on you while I watch on with hot tears rolling
down my eyes. And as you took you first breath, she took her last. They
tried to revive her but she was gone in minutes and you are here. When
she left, I felt naked and broken. A part of me dies with her. I felt
cheated and stranded. I knew she stopped fighting not because she
couldn’t fight any more. But because it’s a price she had to pay to give
back what belongs to life in a hard way. You. She was beautiful, but
not like those girls in the magazines. She was beautiful not like those
girls on the runway. She was ageless and she was beautiful, for the way
she thought. She was beautiful, for that sparkle in her eyes when she
talked about something she loved. She was beautiful, for her ability to
make other people smile even if she was sad. No, she wasn’t beautiful
for something as temporary as her looks. She was beautiful, deep down to
her soul. As I learned to accept my faith, I began to relate to people
on a deeper level and saw that everyone comes with their own pains and
struggles. I learned to appreciate every of my pains and people for
their flaws as much as their strengths and mine, which in turn helped me
to accept myself the more… One day, recently, I realize that life
should be a glorious adventure and I decided that I am worthy enough to
enjoy it. So I finally let her hands that I have held in my mind for
years go but I still remember her not faintly in my head. I know she
will not want me to remain lost in my mind for ever to raise you and
give you a better life. So I learn to smile again, I learnt it from you.
And I was perfect again. For her, for you…
By Ogundairo Abiodun
08029035400
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