All posts tagged: loss

Story of a Bleeding Heart

Kosidinma, my friend’s son passed away last week. His mother, Ehimemen wrote this for him. Words cannot express the pain I feel at your demise. You entered my life and made me feel like finally I had a purpose. A purpose that was mine only. Suddenly I knew I owed someone, I knew I owed you a responsibility to raise you as God wants. You gave me sleepless nights but it was all worth it because the look and satisfaction you gave after each feeding was priceless.  We had a connection which no one understood. Whenever I heard you cry, even when I knew you were having your bath, I jumped out of bed to watch just to make sure your crying was not for something that could have been avoided.  When people came to congratulate me, I was proud of the child I had begotten and created; bright, tall, independent and a whole lot more. I looked forward to your growing up because I felt you were going to be the next Albert Einstein… …

A Grief Lived

“How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.” Winnie The Pooh. This is how it happened, Okha. November 12, 2014. I am chatting with Ozoz about a dessert table for the wedding. Discussing macarons, I think. And candy buffets. Then Daddy calls. And he calls me Osemhen. Not Ose. Osemhen. In a tone that makes me feel like I am about to be scolded. You know that tone. And he asks me where I am. And I am afraid. Because he already knows I am at work. I’m at work. I force cheer into my voice. We are both prevaricating. I have some bad news. I think I asked, what? And he says Okhafo is dead. I think I heard someone sob in the background. I stand from my chair. Suddenly the air in the office building isn’t enough and I need to get outside. I tried, Okha. I almost make it. But my legs crumple at the door. I cannot stand and I cannot push the door open. Our horror stares at …

You Are Legend

I thought I knew what loss was when I wrote “Laughter & Champagne.” But this is worse. His room still smells of him. I never noticed till he was gone. But his room has a distinct smell. It is the scent of Icy-Hot, the smell of folic acid, a hint of Dettol Cool and Vaseline Aloe-Vera. This is what his room smells like. This is how to console a bereaved person. Visit…and sit in silence, saying nothing. Or saying a lot, distracting them. Bring food in Ziplocs and plastic bowls. So that we do not have to cook. Do the dishes that keep mounting up because “guests” persist in eating the food other people have brought to console the family. Sweep. This is how not to console a bereaved person. Hold them too tightly when they cry. We don’t cry because we want hugs. We cry so that the sadness does not implode in our chests. We cry because we miss our love, because we can’t imagine the rest of our lives without hearing their …