Dear Mama,
The woman I became keeps imploring my inner child to dig into the memories you two had for more than your contagious smile. She watches her rewinding some old tapes over and over again.
I can see you in bed that fateful Thursday. We were talking about your birthday which was due in two days and how grateful we both were to still have you around. You went on about how appreciative you were of me and my taking care of you as I made you a cup of porridge.
Neither of us knew it was the last one my teenage hands would make for you or that you wouldn't even get to taste it.
You continued to spew more praise but integrated it with a few requests like how I should make sure my siblings are taken care of however I can. How you were sorry that I had to help you with them and such. How I shouldn't let anyone separate us.
And my innocent soul took everything so lightly whilst making sure your porridge doesn't form lumps.
You talked about your pa. My education. Your hopes. Your dreams.
None of the above told me that you were trying to say goodbye and I was too overwhelmed by seeing you so sick that I was secretly wishing I could take away your pain.
By the time I was done with the porridge, you were done with mortality and the struggle to live with pain. You asked me to say a prayer and your Amen became eternal.
23 years later and I am still haunted by how calm you looked after giving in to the grave. Time and her storms might have dissolved the sound of your voice but your smile has never left my mind.
I have struggled to let death be itself because of your demise. Though I understand its role now, yours still makes no sense to me. Maybe one day it will.
I miss you, Mama.
wambuku w.
...from metaverse xD
