Dear Mom,
How's the afterlife? I hope you're chilling wherever your judge had taken you to? I bloody hope it's somewhere peace, and quiet. Somewhere calm; like that solace space right under a mango tree, and with a calm zephyr billowing. Somewhere worthy of you, your thoughts — if you still have them.
But just in case you don't, this is Agwam Kessington Tega. You know, your son in your previous life. The one who opened your womb. The nervous wreck who troubled you and gave you head aches. I really do hope you can remember me. Please try. But if you don't, it's fine. You aren't supposed to. Your memories died with you. But I'm here, beside your grave, your stone-less grave, and all I see is weeds. Directly on-top of you. And I have this lump hanging in my throat. I cannot even swallow if I wanted to. In my hand is a memo and pen, my silver and gold, my sword and shield. I'm here, under this sunless sky, to sing you a lullaby with keys from my tears and a voice like a far cry. I'm here, with a pained heart, a gritting teeth, and a impulsive nerve. I'm here, to remember you and replay your last moments. Moments I still remember—fresh in my head. Our last conversation was a warning and I'm sorry, I overdid it. I think you would have been happy with what I am now — or maybe not. Because you were never always proud of anything about me. Maybe I'm thinking like this because you never said it openly, but I wish you did. Look mom, here I am, in new khakis and a sweatshirt, a timepiece and a shabby belt. Trying to create a bond with someone who's nonexistent. Look mom, I'm here, don't feign ignorance! You know me. Look mom I'm crying like you left! It's been three years and the wounds are still fresh!
Look mom, feel this chest! It's heaving at its best, it's thumping — it couldn't rest! The the burden you left laces my neck. The burden is me, it's a load that's too heavy to carry. I've met different apothecaries and they all have the same voice. They say it's God's plan that you're dead for a purpose — why does he have to let you go why not “him” ? It would have been better if they switched places. It would have. Look mom, I'm here now.
I ruffled my hair, maybe you'd exhume from your grave and scold me. Maybe you'd look at me with that fire in your eyes and you'd tug my ears. Maybe you'd flick your golden locks back demonstrating your disappointment in me.
You didn't offer me any seat but it's fine. I guess I'll sit on the raw earth. I haven't been the most loyal son. Three years going to four, ever since that day you laid to rest, I haven't knocked this door. I was afraid that I'd be shut away—or pushed to the floor. Maybe you'd shout out me, calling me names, and your voice would reverberate, and shake the earth's core. It doesn't matter anymore, mom, I'm here now. See the pieces of me as I lay them at your feet. Watch them kiss the ground. I said a fuck you to my devil and I prayed to the heavens that he give me facetime with you that I may communicate again, with my first love. That she listens — mom, are you listening?
Angel And Harmony are fine. They're good. Harmony just wrote her common entrance exams and she's going to secondary school. Angel is entering senior school. She doesn't want to be perfect. She's become a social outcast. Your transmutation left a serious mark; harmony wakes up every night and rigmarole the whole flat with no purpose. She yearns for you. But she didn't see you. Angel is finding it hard to have a best friend. She feels she's not human enough to. So, she settles for fantasies; it's become her reality now; books. She swims in them. She doesn't talk about you, mom, she is scared to. She's scared of me also. Harmony too. They see me as the enemy mom. Look at what you've done! My siblings don't want me anymore! They don't want to inhale my after-smell. They wish I'd rot in hell! Mom, I had gone astray but I'm back. You said I shouldn't meet these people, I went. I saw what you talked about mum. I'm sorry I left but I'm back and life is good. I eat of words now, and pixels, and iron. Look at me, mom, I think I've grown some inches taller than you. Don't you agree? I'm the tallest in our family tree. I've gotten here now mom, my memo is full. The sun's coming out and I have to go, very soon, but I wouldn't go until I burned these strokes till they turn to crisp. I wouldn't go without a kiss, from the wind, and I wouldn't go until I kiss back. And tell you how much sickening it is not to hear your voice again. Your wonderful voice, like this lullaby I am singing—though not as good as yours, but I try. Haha, did I not?
Mom, Aunty Franka misses you. Your best friend. She's been devastated since you left. She walks alone and I feel sorry for her. She walks with a void in her eyes. She miscall me. She calls me “Pat.” and I flinch.
I guess I have to go now, mom, don't just stare, give me a fucking answer! I'm sorry I'm cursing but I just can't help it I'm burning so bad that the heat doesn't matter anymore. I want to lie down on your grave and weep all the tears I've held in for so long but I can't. Not until you give me an answer. I'll visit you, next time, and you better prepare my reply, send it through the wind.
Until then, I remain the Seed.
I will always love you. Kisses from the wishes you never said. Hugs from the affections you never gave. Love from the eyes you always led.
Yours Truly,
Agwam Kessington Tega.
©2018.
