I have not fully come to terms with the death of my father. I guess it seems like I have because I do not talk about him but honestly I’d rather not and I choose not to because I will probably get a textbook answer like time heals all wounds. I do not need that and so I usually keep my thoughts to myself. He died in a hospital when I was on my way to see him. I was with my cousin and uncle and my mum had called my cousin to tell her that he had just died, I don’t why she didn’t call me instead and it has never occurred to me to ask her why. I remember silently sitting and then my uncle starting to cry which just pissed me off. I was silent during the whole car ride. When we got to the hospital I walked to the ward he was in and then a group of my relatives saw me and started crying I tried to walk away but someone pushed me back and when they all started hugging me I broke down. I went into his room and they had already taken his body away. And at that moment I knew that he was truly gone. One of the worst things I remember is my young sister coming home from boarding and all she was told was that my dad wasn’t feeling well so when she got home she started asking who had died because she saw a number of people so at first, she thought it was one of my brothers and then she went to my parents room and tried to open the door but it was locked that was when she started crying and saying that she wanted to see him, it was all like a bad dream and one that I couldn’t wake up from. I knew that things would never be the same without him.
So my dad had kidney failure but I thought he was going to get better. And the worst part of it all was that towards the end we got results saying his kidneys were getting better. So he was in and out of the hospital for about 3 years and I did visit as much as I could when I was home because I was in boarding school most of the time. This one time I went to see him and held his hand but he was so sick that he couldn’t squeeze it back and he couldn’t talk, I was so scared that day because I thought he was going to die and it was going to be the last day I saw him, but he didn’t and I got to see him for longer.
I love reading books and my dad loved books too. I once borrowed a Stephen King book from a friend and my dad told me that he used to read his books but I guess as time went on he stopped reading fiction. Sometime before my dad died I went to visit him and I had a Jackie Collin’s novel then he asked me how long it takes me to read a book and I said a day or two if I am serious and then he went on to say, “Don’t read that fiction rubbish, you should read my books” well I haven’t read any of them because they aren’t fiction but I have kept them safely. My mother told me that after that day whenever anyone came to visit and he would tell them that my daughter can read a novel in a day. That made me happy, knowing that he was impressed by something I did and that he told other people about it.
I have been dreaming about my father a lot lately and I honestly don’t mind. The dreams make me happy and at least I get to see him and it feels like he is watching over me. I feel like he isn’t dead but just away somewhere which doesn’t really make sense. So about the dreams this one time I had one and he was telling me that he wasn’t dead and he had just gone somewhere and I was so happy and he hugged me and then we were driving somewhere and then I woke up. I felt so empty and wished I could go back to sleep and keep dreaming. In most of my dreams, I forget that he is dead or it’s like he didn’t die and we just go about our normal lives. But then I’ve read about dreams being messages from God or they could just be random or they are the outcome of what occupies our minds a lot but who knows? If it were up to me I wish I could dream about him every single day so that I can get to see him. Religion gives humanity hope that we’ll reunite with our loved ones someday well I hope we do because I can’t wait to see my father again and be with him forever and not just short dreams. I want to be able to hold his hand and talk to him about what he missed while he was gone and about the books I’ve been reading. But who truly knows what lies beyond? It could all just be wishful thinking for all I know.