DEATH... OH...DEATH, WHERE IS THY STINK?
I call you my dad and people stare, wondering how you are my dad. You became part of my life at a very critical time. As a young girl, facing a lot of challenges and peer pressures, you stepped in and molded me. Your advice to me shaped my life and changed me to the woman I am today. You thought me to be strong, independent and to always believe in myself. You empowered me with the books I read while working for Ebony Book Center. That did not only change the course of my life from a degree in teaching but to a successful enterprising lady.
I remember calling you on a certain Sunday evening asking you if you would like to try treatment in the US and without hesitation, you said YES. I was petrified. At that instant, I knew that things were not alright considering your dislike about the US. Finally, you arrived the US and about two hours later, you were admitted in the hospital. For two months you stayed at the hospital eating American foods which you detested very much. You would ask your visitors to sneak your African foods and the nurses will get angry with you. But for how long could they remain angry? You were sweet and fun to be around, always making people laugh and sharing tales from Africa.
When you were discharged from the hospital, the joy that emanated from you was contagious. Your happiness could be compared to a slave being liberated. And the best part daddy was when you saw me for the first time after your eye surgery. You screamed “Awung, I can see you”. And together with your ophthalmologist, we danced in his office. I will forever hold this day dear to my heart.
I am saddened…I am grieving…I am a singer but without a song. Daddy, your shoulder was always available for me to cry on. I confined in you my fears and concerns and every time, you reminded me of the lone footprint on the seashore. You reminded me that at my most vulnerable time, Jesus was holding me. I am comforted because I know HE held you too especially when you took your last breath. You fought a good fight; you have finished your race and now, its time to take your rest. We joked about your funeral and I promised that I must be present. Little did I know that the day was fast approaching. You laughed and told me it was needless to come. Unfortunately daddy, I cannot keep my promise to you. I cannot come to Cameroon for your funeral and that breaks my heart even more. Life will never be the same without you…no more arguments between us daddy.
I can imagine the Lord saying to you ‘Welcome into my kingdom my good and faithful servant…
I miss you daddy…you will forever remain green in my heart.
Rest in the bosom of your creator…Awung Mirble.