Chapter 9

Hours passed, and the evening sunlight threw long shadows among the sleeping places of the dead. I had lost all sense of time, kneeling there with my daughter holding my hand, in silence, I heard the soft shuffling sound of feet on the grass. I looked up, beyond me, standing together by my house yard wall, was a woman, her veil down, hiding her face, she was looking towards the grave towards us. She came closer and stopped, who is she? Where has she come from? And what is her history? She seems alone and full of sorrow, thin and pale, full of pain and fear as she lifted her veil and in the still evening light I saw her face, it was my wife, I woke up from the deep slumber sweating up, shocked, mesmerized beyond words, at the end of my bed was my dead wife, who then started to slowly shrink in size until she disappeared. I was petrified with fear since it was very odd to sleep with a dead person.

I checked the time on my phone. 3:30 pm had missed a text from my mum asking “are you doing okay?” I decided to peep into my daughter’s room to check if she was fine then grabbed a cup of coffee since I usually get up at 4.30 pm anyway. Saw the garage lights on, went out to turn them off, then I find myself in thoughts again. Like what was my wife trying to show? Does she miss us? What could be wrong with her? There are so many things that a mother wishes to teach her daughter, how to lose your innocence but not your hope, how to keep hoping, when hope is your only joy, how to laugh forever these I could not provide no matter how I try, raising a female child by myself was a huge task.

First thing first, I start the scenes in reverse, all of the lines rehearsed, disappearing on my mind, when the times got rough, one of us running mad, I should have turned my back and look behind but I had too much sorrow of losing my wife, forgetting that I had a child now is my wife haunting me for neglecting our child? These were the questions running in my mind that fateful day. I had already given my life to Christ, the Messiah, the prince of peace, why then was my peace disturbed. I became aware that I knew nothing about raising a daughter by myself, sometimes I wondered if the wrong parent had died. Mothers raise daughters. Father is supposed to financially support the family. Mothers are the nurturers; now, I had to learn a new role, one I hadn’t anticipated. I never knew what being a parent was about until I had to do it myself. I believe my daughter’s greatest fear initially was being left alone. She had already lost her mother. Would she lose me as well? Who would take care of her then? On one occasion she announced, “Dad, I know what you can get for Christmas, and it won’t cost a cent. You can find me a new mom.” It was too soon for me to consider taking such a step, putting in mind all that I have been through with love and relationships, but her question helped me to understand the depth of her need. She was hurting and she was scared.

After the initial shock, denial, and bargaining phases had run their course; we worked through the lingering anger and depression and started to put our lives back together, collecting each peace and binding them together as one. When she was in elementary school, I became a “Room Father”. When it was my turn to buy cookies, I could buy the flour make the dough in rolls, cut it into individual cookies and bake them. It was difficult at first but through the online baking tutorial, I became a pro. I encouraged her involvement in church activities so she would be spiritually grounded. I enrolled her in charm school and we joined ballroom dancing classes together. I tried to be involved by balancing work and family. I passed up a job in one of the famous local law institutions because of the position’s frequent out-of-country travel.

So many memories, the first word she pronounced, the first walking steps, her first birthday, the first day at kindergarten, her first graduation from kindergarten, her first crush, her first date, her first formal dance, her first prom dress, learning how to ride a bike, graduations, awards and what a view. These things I will always treasure. Both the hard times like her first injury and both the good times like the picnics, the tour, and the swimming lessons. My daughter is now 25 years old. Like any parent, I didn’t know it would turn okay until it did. The best gift I could give my daughter was my time, my love, and my encouragement. Daughters need their fathers no matter what their age, and it’s never too late to start.