It was you who opened your eyes to this world on the 3rd day of December, the day that marked the beginning of the festivities. Abiodun was to be your name but that was never to be, for your birth marked the death of another.
She was the beloved of your father and as her blood flowed on you so did her life ebb with the blood. The sorrow of her death forever soiled the joy of your birth. The love he had for your mother was turned into deep hate towards you. Yes! He couldn’t bare the sight of you because in you he saw a reminder of his greatest loss.
On your grandmother’s feeble knees you grew. To her, you were a delight and though she was feeble and frail, she did all she could to take care of you and make you happy. She was a petty trader and earned little. In your later years you wondered where the money she used for your upkeep came from. Though she wasn’t extravagant on you, you knew now that what she spent on you then was beyond her earnings.
You remembered every 3rd Day of December when a package arrived with your name on it. Though you never really liked the gifts in them because they seemed like misplaced gifts meant for a boy child, you had pretended you loved them just to see your grandma's smiles as your face lit up in fake excitement.
The gifts however stopped coming on your seventh birthday on the 3rd day of December. Your grandmother still never told you the source of those gifts or why they stopped.
You were her life and there were nights you woke up and saw her staring at you with a sad countenance. You never made her realise you saw her. You could swear that you saw her shed tears on three of such occasions. Your little mind wondered why you made her cry and each time you promised yourself you’ld be a better kid even though you couldn’t think of anything you had done wrong. She was your world and you did all your little brain could think of to keep her happy. She gave you wings to fly through harmony and you owed her your life.
In retrospect in your later years you came to understand the tears. She knew her eyes would soon close to this world. She knew sadly too how deeply you’ld miss her, but graver to her was the fact that she had no one she could entrust you to.
Every night she prayed. Yes, she prayed that her spirit will stay a little longer within her wearied body. Long enough for her to guide you till you could live life on your own. But as the days went by the pains of age wearied even her strong, determined soul and resolute will.
Then there was that night, the night that would remain forever in your memory. You remembered the scene, you heard the screams, you felt the pain, and you shed tears every time the memory of it flashed by.
More than a hundred times over you’ve played that night in your memory and more than a hundred times over you’ve shed tears…
To be continued.
An unfinished work of mine.
