Dear Daddy,
I trust that you are well, over there. Of this fact I am vaguely certain, seeing as
you were always a good man; never doing to others what you would not have them
do to you. I trust that you had many helpers on the way.
I have not seen any of my egbons since we said that near
empty farewell in Iperu, your hometown. I say empty because I know that the
pomp and fanfare would not have resonated with your childlike spirit. I hope
you are not cross that I may not be as close to the others since you left, but
one can only be true in these matters. I do not begrudge them daddy, far from
it. But I cannot honestly say that I feel the need to spend time in their
company, or even maintain a statutory once in a while telephone conversation.
In truth, you were the connecting thread that kept the
fabric of that nuclear and extended titular family somewhat from shredding. I
miss you daddy.
Looking down upon us I hope you will not be too upset
about the move I made seven months ago. In fact I hope that you are no longer
tied down to matters affecting these parts; there is so much more for you to
experience and live yonder. I am sure that from there you can see things in a
clearer light, can perceive things for their content and not necessarily for
the outward form which deceives the majority of us who are still blinded by
what our flesh, blood and brain can fathom. In this vein I want to believe that
your heart might go out for us ever so often, for the entanglements which we
burden ourselves with and from which we are afraid and too weak to break away
from, especially those ones for which you may feel partly responsible because
you knowingly or unknowingly encouraged it.
So I made the move. I tore away and damned the
consequences two weeks after you left. I have the conviction that stagnation
brings about retrogression; the sort of retrogression that I have experienced
in the past decade and half. I so wanted to maintain the status quo, for you
and everyone else, but I know better now, and I forgive you for not seeing the
hopelessness in such vivid colours as I did all those years ago. I forgive you
because it was my lesson to learm; not yours. I had written the notes of that
song and it was my responsibility to dance the tune as long as I needed in
order to come to recognition.
The tearing away has by no means been easy,
but I have faith that the fight is a good one and in the end validation will be
mine.
I felt bad that I had not made Moboluwaduro and
Moboluwajoko get close to you, especially in those last days, so that they will
learn that the earth still had a few good men out there, men who kept their
words and did not compromise on their values.
Two weeks ago, I read a notice that Mr B left last month; his
funeral was last Thursday. Just six months ago he was at your farewell, I
wonder if he remembered this on his deathbed as I remembered it upon seeing his
funeral notice. Incidentally, Mr EC also left the night before B’s funeral.
What a sombre mood that put me in! I refused to go pay his wife the customary
condolence visit. She may not even remember me as an acquaintance of her
youngest daughter, will going there to mumble ‘I wish you strength’ make his
passing easier for her to bear? Besides, does the number of condolences make the
weight lighter?
I am becoming increasingly wary of many such
‘customary acts’ in my bid to discover true self, and I am less likely to do
something that my spirit does not accept. I know now that I should have
undertaken this journey earnestly a long time ago, even at the risk of
displeasing you and many others; No one knows the time they will be called
away. In this new knowledge, I take on
new experiences each day and I find myself learning things about me that I
never knew existed. It is my time to experience the words ‘ All that is dead in
creation shall be awakened that it may pass judgement upon itself…’
I pray that both our individual experiences
set our spirits soaring high on, till we return home. See you again in
Paradise!
I love you.
I.D.E
