Dear Dad,Greetings, from this world of the living.How is that one, of souls, treating you?It is, today, exactly two years, two unfathomable years, since you have been gone. Two years! I have been meaning to write to you, but for either the consumption of the numerous activities which make my world, or the dearth of concentration, it has been a rather unfortunate endeavour. I cannot even choose.That, is how lost I have been without you. Not so many know, but I have not done much well enough. I have neither slept nor eaten well, and more. My everything-is-fine smile has helped me keep many at bay – well, only those that I can. Dealing with the pain is still a dream. My wounds are still rather quite fresh. I have been endlessly lobotomized. I am sad, broken, and lonely – more than ever before. However, you words – “if your sisters ever see you crying, what will they do?” – keep ringing like a peal in my ear.The effects have been several. Your parents, now 94 and 127, are frailer than when you were last in these parts. They are, simply, hanging on. Mummy is overly lonely. There is nothing worse than loneliness. Thankfully, she is managing. Annet and Angel have lost the colour in their lives. You always joined them in illustrating it. I cannot speak for your thousands and thousands of colleagues and friends. We do not hear from any of them any for the more. I heard one of them say that the celebration of your life had more attendants than those at the King’s, who lived a few hills away from Rwanyanshando. Perhaps, they too can’t stand the loss of a man who was more than a King.
We miss you! Having no uncle, or brother, or cousin or nephews, you were every one of that kind to me. A mentor, counsel, and hero. I miss you as though we were born twins, and I am the only one who survived. Because of losing you, I have seen people who did not know such transform tremendously. I have, for the first time, seen Mummy break down and drip a few tears on your grave while we prayed there. When I spent more than twenty hours on the road, and arrived for your burial, I held Annet, and felt my hand piece through her – as if. Angel has been unusually speechless. I am comforted by the smiles and joy which have been gradually returning to their faces.
You have missed a whole lot, too! You are one lucky of a man, Dad! You found and married one hell of a strong, focused woman. You should see how she has managed everyone and everything. It is both intriguing and surprising that more often than not, she finds solace in me. While it might be true that her increased affection for me is because she misses you, I am also moved to believe that she see more of you in me, that she has become more awake to who I am and what I am worth and capable of. Hmm! If only she was also aware of the pressure that I have put myself under to be accountable to, and to leave an impression on you.
Angel’s birthday was, as you know, two days ago. We shared cake, food, and the company of her friends – some young, cheerful, dancing dames who had only kind words for and about her and find her beautiful. She is, indeed, an Angel living among us. She will be a Civil Engineer in about a year. I vividly recall the day you drove the family to accompany her to University on her first day there.
Mine was, as you certainly know, on the first day of September (it has now reduced to the month which gives and takes – at least for the Twinokwesigas). If it was not for Abel’s and Annet’s invitation to join them for beautiful jazz evening, I would have done very well staying in bed wallowing in my sorrows. Ours, a story of a child born on the same day as its parent’s walking down the aisle was and still is a rare, pretty and truly romantic one. When Mummy called, to wish me a happy birthday anniversary, I did not know whether to wish her a happy wedding anniversary. You, her and I were like the Three Musketeers. Without you, we are incomplete.
Annet graduated and is working as an architect. At her graduation, I sat joined Mummy as her parents. The image did not feel right. I was donning shoes with a size too big. I do not know how to cry – you did not train me that way, but it made my eyes wet. Annet had sent every single day of what seemed like an eon telling you about her studies. It would have been nice for you to be there, and to share in her and our joy.
I have not been poor either. It was wonderful to have you cheer up everyone at my graduation from law school. Your magic will be missed when I am admitted and enrolled as an advocate of the High Court. I must say, it was not that easy arriving at that station. I wrote my tests with the most clouded of heads and minds as they were done immediately after losing you. I have in addition, started and am nurturing several companies, of my own, and have three manuscripts of books which should come out as soon as they are ready.
As a matter of course, we have found more refuge in God. As I wrote to you, I am also preparing to go to church to deliver a prayer petition which Annet noted last night. She will be praying from another church near her workplace later in the day. Angel will be doing the same. Your parents, our grandparents, no longer have the energy to walk to church, however near it is., but I hope they will be able to gather themselves and find themselves before an altar.
Mummy is our champion. As it is 7AM here, she is definitely already within the wall of our local parish and praying. After you, she found an equally good partner in God. More than ever before, her prayers have kept us serene. We will all be praying for you. Always. In prayer we have found hope that we will be ready and worthy enough to see you again, and that we can survive the fusses of this world without that much of a fuss.
I feel like I owe you an apology for taking forever to write to you. I wish I could write to you more often, but my words do not conspire melodiously anymore. Fret not. I am still haunted by them horrifying dreams, and am yet to find the courage to watch any and all videos of you, but I will. It will fault nature for me not to sublimate that energy by putting it down. Sadness has not done us any favours.
As Claudius said, in Shakespeare’s The Tragedy of Hamlet;
to persevere in obstinate condolement is a course of impious stubbornness. ‘Tis unmanly grief; it shows a will most incorrect to heaven, a heart unfortified, a mind impatient, an understanding simple and unschooled; for what we know must be, and is as common as the most vulgar thing to sense, why should we in our perish opposition take it to heart.
There will be brighter days. I cannot help but wait to tell you about it all. We know you will patiently waiting, smiling as ever before, and continuously guiding and interceding for us. Stay that way.