Today…
Today I wear his name on my back.
Today I let my hair down.
Today I wear a rubber band on my wrist even though I don’t think I will need one.
Today I sleep through my alarm.
Today I walk in late.
Today my mood foul.
Today my mood is up.
Today my mood is down.
Today I don’t eat lunch.
Today I walk to the pool.
Today I meet JB.
Today I’m consumed by doubt…
Today I miss him.
Today I hurt.
Today I swear never to forget.
To never neglect.
Today I wear his name on my heart.
…He Was
He was seventy-nine when he died.
I am a part of the proof of his existence that he left behind.
I am a third generation.
A grand son.
I worked with him.
Walked with him.
Worked for him.
Did anything he asked.
We had long conversations.
He told me stories.
He advised me.
Was stern with me.
Told me off…but always in love.
He had a wonderful laugh. Hearty. From the belly.
His smile always reached his eyes.
He was wise.
He knew things.
He loved to read.
He loved the Lord.
He was, is and always will be a model of the man I aspire to be.
He is my hero and I miss him.
Today I wear his name on my back.
Today I let my hair down.
Today I wear a rubber band on my wrist even though I don’t think I will need one.
Today I sleep through my alarm.
Today I walk in late.
Today my mood foul.
Today my mood is up.
Today my mood is down.
Today I don’t eat lunch.
Today I walk to the pool.
Today I meet JB.
Today I’m consumed by doubt…
Today I miss him.
Today I hurt.
Today I swear never to forget.
To never neglect.
Today I wear his name on my heart.
…He Was
He was seventy-nine when he died.
I am a part of the proof of his existence that he left behind.
I am a third generation.
A grand son.
I worked with him.
Walked with him.
Worked for him.
Did anything he asked.
We had long conversations.
He told me stories.
He advised me.
Was stern with me.
Told me off…but always in love.
He had a wonderful laugh. Hearty. From the belly.
His smile always reached his eyes.
He was wise.
He knew things.
He loved to read.
He loved the Lord.
He was, is and always will be a model of the man I aspire to be.
He is my hero and I miss him.
***
It’s been one year. One year to the day. One year since I received that phone call. One year since I listened to my mom’s tear soaked voice at two o’clock in the morning as she told me that he was gone. That his heart had finally given up and that God had finally called him home.
Has it really been that long?
I absently pull at a strand of hair easily longer than half the length of my forearm- It has. The proof was right there, pinced between the pointer and the index of my right hand.
I sit back in my chair. Scratch at my beard. Remember my mother’s words.
“He was so proud of you.”
We were sitting beneath his favourite tree. The Gulu sun warming our skin. It was a few days after I had moved back home. My mother and I had some things to discuss. Like what was happening to me. This was two, three months back maybe.
I watched as she bent over and plucked at some grass. Her gaze was far off.
“So, so proud.”
She turned back to face me. Her eyes beseeching. She wanted to see what affect her words were having on me.
I never could pretend with her.
Her mouth turned downwards.
“but this boy sitting in front of me right now- yes Lloyd, boy, and don’t you think for one moment that you’re anything but because you’re not, not even close- this boy sitting in front of me, he wouldn’t have been. Not one bit. And don’t you look away from me Lloyd, because we both know it’s the truth.”
My mother’s words had stung. But she was right- it was the truth and we both knew it.
I swallowed. There was nothing I could say. There was nothing to say. I let her words sink in. I felt her eyes watch me as I let the words sink in. and as they wade past the shallows, mingling with my particularly dark shade of melanin and then proceeded to gnaw through flesh, bone and finally marrow I felt a sob, small, almost insignificant, claw itself up my throat…
I couldn’t shake her words.
He had been proud of me. Heaping on one praise on top of the other. I had been his golden boy. Not anymore though. And that was the harsh reality of it. And that scared me. What had happened to me? Swallowing, I made my decision right there and then to do better. To make him proud. To honour his memory the best way I could. With all that I am. And not doing it half way either. His memory deserved better than that. Better than what I had given him.
I looked up and met my mother’s eyes. Her gaze was intense but this time I did not look away.
“I know.”
My voice was a whisper. My voice was a croak. Putting a fist up to my mouth, I cleared my throat.
“I know.” I said again.
Her expression softened. I watched as she pulled up another bouquet of grass, a thick clump of soil attaching itself to it. Bits of soil sprinkled her feet but she continued as if she didn’t notice them. She threw the clump of soil with its crew cut of grass in the general direction of the gate. She waited to see where it landed before wiping her hands on the thighs of her jeans.
“I know you will.”
She had that far away look again.
After a moment she stretched out a hand and patted me on the knee.
“I know you will.”
Has it really been that long?
I absently pull at a strand of hair easily longer than half the length of my forearm- It has. The proof was right there, pinced between the pointer and the index of my right hand.
I sit back in my chair. Scratch at my beard. Remember my mother’s words.
“He was so proud of you.”
We were sitting beneath his favourite tree. The Gulu sun warming our skin. It was a few days after I had moved back home. My mother and I had some things to discuss. Like what was happening to me. This was two, three months back maybe.
I watched as she bent over and plucked at some grass. Her gaze was far off.
“So, so proud.”
She turned back to face me. Her eyes beseeching. She wanted to see what affect her words were having on me.
I never could pretend with her.
Her mouth turned downwards.
“but this boy sitting in front of me right now- yes Lloyd, boy, and don’t you think for one moment that you’re anything but because you’re not, not even close- this boy sitting in front of me, he wouldn’t have been. Not one bit. And don’t you look away from me Lloyd, because we both know it’s the truth.”
My mother’s words had stung. But she was right- it was the truth and we both knew it.
I swallowed. There was nothing I could say. There was nothing to say. I let her words sink in. I felt her eyes watch me as I let the words sink in. and as they wade past the shallows, mingling with my particularly dark shade of melanin and then proceeded to gnaw through flesh, bone and finally marrow I felt a sob, small, almost insignificant, claw itself up my throat…
I couldn’t shake her words.
He had been proud of me. Heaping on one praise on top of the other. I had been his golden boy. Not anymore though. And that was the harsh reality of it. And that scared me. What had happened to me? Swallowing, I made my decision right there and then to do better. To make him proud. To honour his memory the best way I could. With all that I am. And not doing it half way either. His memory deserved better than that. Better than what I had given him.
I looked up and met my mother’s eyes. Her gaze was intense but this time I did not look away.
“I know.”
My voice was a whisper. My voice was a croak. Putting a fist up to my mouth, I cleared my throat.
“I know.” I said again.
Her expression softened. I watched as she pulled up another bouquet of grass, a thick clump of soil attaching itself to it. Bits of soil sprinkled her feet but she continued as if she didn’t notice them. She threw the clump of soil with its crew cut of grass in the general direction of the gate. She waited to see where it landed before wiping her hands on the thighs of her jeans.
“I know you will.”
She had that far away look again.
After a moment she stretched out a hand and patted me on the knee.
“I know you will.”
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