I’m supposed to write something here, about loss and what it really feels like but I’m not sure it’s such a good idea. Losing the one person who has been a constant in your life, one who has been with you from the beginning of your life till they took their last breath is hard to take, it’s even harder when that person is your Father.
In as much as I say it’s not a good idea, friends have advised that I let it all out, apparently I’ve buried myself in work and my studies, doing so much to avoid the topic.
………nothing seems apt right now. The words keep hiding, receding to the deepest recesses of my mind, now all that is left is barely enough, the words I manage to string together barely paint a decent picture….No one knows this pain I feel.
I remember the last time I saw him, I recall his typical White native attire, as we walked towards the front door, my brother waiting in the car, the engine running, not that he was happy to drive me to the airport.
I’m glad I gave him that last warm embrace. In as much as he would have preferred I stayed back in Abuja he knew I had to be in Lagos and he respected my wishes. Almost every week he would call me and we would have humorous conversations about a wide range of topics from girls to the Bible but there would always be laughs.
I admired how well he could hold a conversation with almost anybody, most of the time I found myself talking to him for long periods, losing track of time because he would usually engage me in almost endless thoughtful discussions.
He taught me how to love Family, how to be selfless, firm and when to compromise because I saw him do these things at great expense to his own happiness and well being. He taught me the true meaning of loyalty.
There was a period when we both couldn’t stand each other, when others feared our relationship as Father and son had become irreparable, I for one thought that was the case and I would steel my heart with so much rage. From nowhere the call or the gesture would come. This man who I was totally convinced didn’t give a care in the world, he really cared, he couldn’t stand not being with those he loved and he longed to always make us; his family happy and proud.
….I miss him, his heavy footsteps and occasional humming as he walked through the house checking if things were in order; he could be so thorough.
I have lost a Hero, friend, mentor and most of all a Father and no matter what I write here, nothing seems apt in expressing how much it hurts deep inside. To be honest I thought he would outlive us all because he in his own way always seemed larger than life. He touched people in so many ways he had become such a central figure in so many lives, knowingly or unknowingly. Yet again I say I am proud of Mr. S
….it’s hard to continue when the emotions keep flooding back, the pain begins to creep closer to a near physical threshold….
I don’t know how to conclude this. How can I tell myself that these words are adequate and paint a full picture? I know I can do better. I know I should. It’s such a drab piece, barely painting the actual picture I want you to see.
May be one day I will, maybe in some other medium or piece.
I don’t really care to be honest, I just miss my Dad.
Rest in peace Mr. S. Otunba Olanrewaju Owodunni Omokorede Soyebo (5th of April, 1957- 18th of May 2013)