CHAPTER 17
The next morning, the weather was so calm and beautiful, the chill breeze blowing slowing waking us up gently from our sleep peacefully. I can't remember when last I woke up from sleep this peaceful, the rain did a beautiful thing seriously and we were all looking happy. After I said my prayer, I turn to my wake my mother so we could pray our cooperate prayer and to my surprised my mother was holding Niri's baby picture in her hands, with tears in her eyes "Ngo, what is the issue? Why are you crying" she didn't say a word so I just held her hand and cried with her. It's one year already since we watched Niri being lowered to the ground? Time fled so fast we didn't even realize that so much time had gone already, like were did all this time go to. I had suggested to my mother that we should go to his grave side on the day but she refused, in fact she had not being there since he was buried and I totally understand why! Amidst all this thought I heard her say "lets go and see him, I miss my baby so much" that broke me deeply but I told her that she was not under any form of pressure that Niri will understand but she insisted that she wanted to go and see him so we make plans since it was still a week to come.
Before the set day, I could feel the tension and fear even anxiety in my mom and I kept of telling her that we are not under any pressure of any kind, we could just pray 4 him from home and he will be ok "did you hear me say I miss my child?" she would always ask me. Truth is am happy she finally wants to face her fears but I am genuinely concern because I don't want any issue of relapse we went through hell and fire before we got her so any thing to make us go back to that life that I consider as a past was a no for me, but she insisted and so I let her have it.
On the said day, we woken up early said our prayers and made something to eat, had our bath and set out early because we didn't want the sun to get hot with us still there so we taught even though my mummy said we should take small hoe to clean the environment that people had told her that the place was bushy and that was true because I had gone there not often though but at least more than three times but we really didn't plan to stay long there, on our way we kept silence because seriously I didn't know what to tell her "do you think it has changed?" I asked "the grave?" my mother replied "yes" I replied, my mother shook her head "graves do not change. It is the people that do" she replied and I realize that that was another clue to keep quiet, the gist was no longer flowing between us, so I did keep quiet until we got there.
On reaching there, they stopped walking and were looking around "is this not where he was buried?" my mother asked looking confused but I was as confused as she was, someone had not cleared the place but had constructed it into a fine grave, very clean and classy with his name boldly written on it. In the midst of our confusion and so many unanswered questions we noticed that someone was there and we didn't believe our eyes, IT WAS MY DAD Mr. Zakka in flesh and blood. He didn't change much, his clothes were neatly pressed, his shoes were not dusty and rusty like before. He looked… put together. For a moment, I thought my mother had not seen him but then he turned slowly when he heard our footsteps, our eyes meet then my mom's. nobody spoke a word for at least 20minutes we all just stared at each other. I wanted to tell my mother "Please don't cry" because we weren't looking bad ourselves "you came?" she broke the silence which made me shock "its one year already" he replied, his voice was calmer now, less angry and hostile then another silence stretched between them, just heavy with memories my mother controlling her emotions so hard "yes" she answered, "he has been here for a year now, no crying, no pain and at least no sickness" "I've been coming" he said. "Not often, but… sometimes".
My mother looked at him, closely this time; he really looked good, he had gained a little weight, his shoulders were straighter. I could see from her eyes she really didn't know how to react but I must say she is trying, I could see the pain in my father eyes and my mother acting all healed and I don't care really stroke him hard " I should have done more to protect my family" he said al broken "we were all desperate especially to save him" points at Niri's grave. That word "desperate" not evil, not heartless, no insult just cornered by poverty and fear. I was almost at tears at this point, one year ago, this grief had shattered our family and our home Feng had left, my father had gone too and my mum lost her mind for a while but here we are not healed but standing. My mother had hand picked some flowers on our way so she gently pressed it on the grave, I dropped mine too she also poured a little water on the grave as a sign of remembrance as usually do in Nigeria "one year" she said softly "and it feels just like yesterday my baby" my dad tried to console her but she continued "I thought time would reduce the pain but I guess I was wrong, time doesn't heal it only teaches us how to carry the pain and survive with it" she cried and said some silent prayers while myself and my father tried to catch up "how are you?" he asked "am doing great, and you? Ohhh no need to asked I can see it for myself" "simi, this is not what it looks like" he cuts in "yes its not, you tell me what it is then" I replied, the truth is I was angry with my father and if my mother was going to pretend about it I wasn't going to, am sure my mother saw me and my dad talking and she wasn't sure of the tune I would use so she came to us, the sun had climbed higher and hotter "its time to go simi" turns to my dad "it was nice of you to come" my dad tried to hold it back but he couldn't "I will be coming home more often," he said carefully "if that's alright by you" I really was expecting a different response entirely, she looked at the grave one more time, then at the man she once built a life with and she said "we will see" no rejection, no acceptance just space! And sometimes, space is the first step towards rebuilding.
They stood together for a little while longer not as enemies, not as lovers, but as parents who had buried a child. When they turn to leave, none of them looked back immediately, because some goodbyes are never fully said and some graves are not just resting places, they are mirriors.