It was one of those nights.
He would be in seizure and doom will return. In the morning, mother's wrapper would be starched with phlegm from her nose.
She would look a little more than helpless and this Déjà vu would occurred again and again.
Saturdays. These days were mostly not beautiful. Father wasn't always around. I mean, his body was but his mind wasn't.
He would sit, pouting his face out and supporting his chin with his shivering hands.
Clearly, this wasn't the picture of a father I wanted to see. He wouldn't want us to see him looking so a little above helpless but what could he do? -money wasn't our strong suit.
My sisters were the parrots of doom. They wept. Cried. Wept and forgot what it feels like to talk without their voice crackling with brokenness and anger.
I would sit outside because I didn't know how to react to this. Someone once said there is no perfect reaction to anything. So I tried to seal my heart with vacuum and emptiness: I left them inside, so I won't catch this contagious tears.
My mind was heavy. My heart was light. I wasn't feeling any emotional burden, no. Like father, I couldn't cry, though something like a burden hung on my throat, so I tried not to speak much or too loud, so my voice won't betray my manhood.
I sat outside. Picking stones. Throwing them.
What is the essence of life?
I was about to lose one of the best things in my life. Something you might never understand.
I stand outside these walls
Not because I'm out-standing
But because these walls don't smell of goodness anymore
I stand on these hills that smell of prayers
Incense and unanswered pleas
I'd tell them not to pray anymore if I were God
I stand over this sphere
Of brown roofs and black people
Of black hearts and brown skins
Nothing seems to make absolute sense anymore with all this hasty life
Except peace. Absolute peace
When you are at this point.. with this vista
I turned around. Father was sitting behind me.
The look in his eyes, these eyes that rested on me, they were empty.
Empty and thinking whatsoever he was thinking. Maybe he was thinking he could have done more than this. Maybe not but I wasn't curious to know.
We all had a conclusion in our minds but nobody told another. You will not say it, because we are Christians so we sought desperately for hope and faith.
Here, I knew Abraham tried.
Nothing is as bad as facing the worst thing in your life and being helpless. It makes you feel worthless, I think.
So I mustered courage and decided I could live through life, alone.
But something happened that evening.
He coughed. His voice came out.
Mother voiced leaped out of her throat with ecstasy. She would remind him countless times that she's there for him, only asking
"How are you feeling?"
See, mother's love is priceless. Only God's love has something on it.
My sisters will march in in frantic disarray. News like this are painkillers to the soul. They mustered around him and held his hands.
I would later come in and stand afar off, just like dad would do.
These times, I smiled to heaven and heaved.
This is not the only time. It occurred again so many times that I lost count but God never lost us.
He showed up again and again until now, we always think it is a normal thing.
My mind is a google of beautiful memories, sometimes I google for some like this and smile to the heavens.