My sister calls came in around 1: 00am in April 17. It was to my brother’s phone not mine even if is mine at that time of the morning I wonder what would be the outcome. The second ring proofs his hesitation to pick the call. It rings third time, now I can hear it more clearly through the opening that connects his room and mine. The ringing didn’t call only me out of sleep, I guess the wife could hear it too. His phone ringing tone is the type that wakes a new born baby from their endless connection with the man (God) that brings them to this world.( Don’t worry. It is not why we are here.)
The fourth call repeated. That was when I hear what will change my course of the year. What will affect all the dreams I had. There my brother asked what the problem is. I can’t hear clearly but can get the message interpreted with my number six (brain). “Mother,” she replied. That, of course, was not news. Mom (if you will permit me to use that word) her name is a household thing that her dog (Beacon) can call that- what! – no no no- my brother come in. it can't be!
Before the call we spoke a week after, my mom over the phone describe the kind of wife she wanted me to have (although is not the first time we had that kind of conversation).What she wanted, in a word was a beautiful and homemade girl for me. How easy was that to achieve? In many ways, the girl will be a Christian. For my mum she was a believer and love God. (Oh yes, my mother called her name “Becky”. That was my ex-girlfriend. She didn’t even know she married on Eastern Monday. I can’t tell her. Sorry to hear it so later, Mom).
In the whole house I wouldn’t hear a sound again, as if the two of the phones were death. What follow was a shout. From who? the wife. I can’t hear my brother. A man I knew for all but for last two years I live with them (here in South Africa) his life I can infinitely said I understood more deeply. He is a man of courage and authority but his wife to shout at the early hour and he say nothing something is wrong. What could that be?
Then I’m up from my bed. I can hear the wife still talking, but in the name of God if I know is about death. I will say, my brother would want a silence, to allow him to think. To that-without telling her, for fear of wakening our neighbors- she added to silent of night. Without hesitation my brother breaks the news of how death and his friends visited my only thing, my inspiration and the anchor of my life (Mother).
Visitation of winter (you know how cold it is) and over the rooftops I can’t hear myself again. All the blood in my system ceases to flow. In summary, I can’t breathe, no, not like I used to. Spirit of death, I can’t be patient not again, not after you take my sister without a note. Now my mother, some will say they don’t want a recycling of revenge or a battle from you and all your allies. I want it. I want a fight to prove to the world how useless you are. How you move around taken what doesn’t belong to you, and how you are causing havoc among the people of God.
Sorry mom. I know you may not have wanted me to say all that but losing you when I needed you most. When I’m at the brink of making it. At the time to look after you and pay you for a man you made me to become. Is hard to forget. My Mother, born in Nigerian in 1939, a mother and child of God, grew up without brothers (Her biography). Sorry I didn’t give you all. But I love you so much.
