Dear mum.

Dear Mum,

I ought to have written this fifteen days ago. Scratch that… I ought to have done this forty-four days ago (I had to consult the calendar…you see I’m not so good with maths and dates anymore). I ought to have done this that long ago. I just couldn’t bring myself to. I still am struggling to do this.

You see, it’s really difficult. Has been difficult. And will continue to be difficult. I am not being a pessimist or anything. I just know and I’m just saying. What’s the point of false hopes and what not?

I’m sorry this is not starting on the good note most letters start with. There’s so much to say but not the time or the person to say it to. We should be having a proper conversation and not the method of writing a note I know you most definitely can’t read or reply. But then again, here I am still stuck in front of my laptop writing you. So here goes…brace yourself cos its going to be a really long one.

Where do I start from? I really don’t know to be very honest.

I guess the first thing is that I miss you. More now than ever. It’s like it gets worse with the passing of each day. Shouldn’t it get easier as each day passes? Shouldn’t it get easier to move through the motions because I have succeeded in numbing the pain? Shouldn’t it be easier because I’ve gotten so good at pushing hurt far back into my mind that I am beginning to forget even things that happened just seconds ago? Shouldn’t I have gotten over it by now?

Maybe I never would be able to. Maybe it’d remain there, an open wound. You and I know why it maybe would be that way….or maybe it is only I that knows. To be very honest, I’m tired of being so strong.

You know how it gets so hard to be so strong because you have been so strong for so long? You probably don’t know that feeling. You’re the strongest person I know. I mean, who else could go through all you went through and still come out smiling? Come out like you? I’ve not come close yet I have fallen apart already.

This is beginning to get depressing. But that’s the point no? This is supposed to be some sort of therapy.

These three years and forty-four days haven’t all been sad. Some good came out of it.

Abdul Fattah got into school for law. Ganiyat is such a big girl now too. Talking of which, she just did wonderfully in her GCE. Just one subject wan mess up but God dey.

Remember those days when I used to tear paper around and buy note books to write? Well they are paying off now. I get paid to write now. It all happened all of a sudden but with the passing of each day, I get better. I hope to write my book someday soon too. I got my sewing machine too.

I still don’t have a boyfriend. Lol. That’s funny cos I’ve been hearing a lot of “if your mum was alive, you would have brought a man” talk. Honest truth is, I probably might not have. But then again I do have to admit it wouldn’t have gotten this bad.

The thing is, I don’t know if I can bring myself to commit. I don’t know if I can bring myself to open up to somebody like that. I don’t know if I can bear the hurt if shit hits the fan. I don’t know if I can stand knowing that just like that, just like you, that person would leave when we hit it off eventually.

See, I have a problem moving on. Everybody else might not. Everybody else might find it easier to move on, to live life like nothing happened, everybody else might be able to say ‘I love you’ again to another person even as they say they are hurting by the departure of the first person, everybody else might be able to take up another as a replacement for the lost one; but I cant. I don’t know how to. I hold on to little things like this. It might seem like I’m being overly sentimental but that’s how it is.  You probably think I am messed up. I guess I am.

I am fixated on little things some people think is not important and tag as “over sentimentality” (if there is such a word). Little things count to me. Little big things.

Remember that one time at Abdul Fattah’s Valedictory service when you prayed you never got replaced when you kids started doing great things? I do.  I had my convocation earlier this month and I cried every day before and after. I cried for a lot of reasons. But the main thing that caused the tears was the fact that you were not there. To be honest, a lot of the reasons I cried would not have even existed if you were still around. But what can I do? I have resigned myself to the fact that I would always cry those tears when I do great things. It’s inevitable. That’s how loss works.

Argh! I really wanted to talk about a lot more good things that happened. I guess its better this way. Letting out the bad because hiding it in hurts so much. I should stop now.

This is the part where I read through and I just delete everything because it is too much of a revelation of the mess I call my mind. But no. I chose to turn the tables this time. This time I choose to totally liberate myself and post. It’s long overdue. Even the strongest of us all deserve a break from being so strong.

I love you.

I miss you.

I wish there was another way.

 

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