With Jesus it has
always been easy to deal with. His death was possibly drilling over
two thousand years ago and as that of my father’s whose departure
robbed me of a proper man’s touch before I could even learn to
comprehend life and why was I so small while everything and everyone
else was so gigantic.
In the case of
Madlamini, I had no choice but to man up for my mother. I had to be
the man she has always urged me to be. She was mourning her mother
and my shoulders had to be broader to act as sanctuary for her
fragile bone structure.
For something that
happened almost five years ago, in my mother view the memory is still
fresh and hurtful each day a silhouettes emulating her mother’s
existence.
I assumed it gets
easier, but apparently it never does.
One Saturday, in
October, conceded all prospects of absolute fun, alcohol and gossip.
The start, of course, was exciting and I found myself dubbing the day
orgasmic.
All it took was the
sight of a long lost acquaintance from the past for the day to
swiftly press my emotions to the point of misery theme.
I had never been
close to the woman who stood in front of me, but for one moment we
had to be tight. Neither one of us planned it nor did we expect it,
but shit split itself in half and we found each other embracing…
Sobbing.
For someone who is
well aware of how much appearance is valued in the presence of
womanly men and broad-shouldered women, the masses at Neighbourgoods
Market carried no value
“Oh, my goodness…
Seeing you just brought back memories of him,” that was her
mistake. I held her and I squeezed her so tight in an effort to hold
back my tears.
“Please, say no
more,” I whispered. That was my mistake.
Unfortunately, I was
faced with a situation; a moment that brought the realisation that I
have been pretending to have never been affected much by his death.
For months, I would speak about him and the good times we used to
have without a tinge of emotion. I was lying to myself. I hadn’t
mourned his passing.
Lift your head up
and stand tall… I think I took the phrase to heart and too far. I
found myself comfortable in what I vowed I will never be. The bubbly
me was visible despite suppressed emotions enthused by missing links
in my life.
I hadn’t let go of
him. Now, here I am. What must happen?
