Ìrètíọ̀la (3)

Ìrètíọ̀la (3)

I quickly took a shower, had my lunch and went to have my siesta. I had a very fitful sleep as I kept waking up very frequently. Everything was not right, this I could feel. I woke up about 45 minutes after I slept and went to the living room to meet my father and my aunt conversing in hushed tones. “Good afternoon daddy” I said. He responded to my greeting immediately but I could see stress on his face. “Daddy, where’s mummy?” I asked him. “Mummy isn’t feeling too well so she’s resting now. You will see her when she wakes up” he told me. I felt a little bit relieved but the shadow of worry still loomed around the corners of my heart.

Around 7 pm, I went to check on my mum. Slipped quietly into her room and saw that she was awake. “Mummy” I said quietly. She turned towards me and smiled. She looked so tired and exhausted. “Ìrètíọ̀la bawo ni?” she asked faintly. I asked how she was feeling and she told me she felt a little better. I spent some time with her and went back to my room.

About ten minutes later, I heard a scream from my parents’ bedroom. The voice was unmistakably my aunt’s. I ran to the room to see her cradling my mum in her arms and crying. I couldn’t make any sense out of what she was saying but I saw that things weren’t looking good. Mummy was in so much excruciating pain. “When I asked her how she felt, she told me she felt better so what could go wrong” I thought to myself.

“Children too can pray” was what my Sunday school teacher always said. I remembered in the moment so I took my mum’s hand and muttered what I could. I told God how I loved her and I didn’t want anything happen to her and how I was going to be a good girl and not give her any stress and study my books well and make good grades….. her hands suddenly felt like ice blocks against my warm skin. I paused my prayer and looked at her. “Mummy” I called softly but I didn’t hear any response. I asked my aunt if she had slept back but I could see the expression on her face. It felt like sadness mixed with some desperation and resignation at the same time. I was confused. I really was. “what was happening?” I thought.

Aunt Linda screamed again, this time louder than the first and began to wail. My daddy came into the room crying too. He must have felt whatever happened for him to be crying too. I really couldn’t process all that just happened but the sadness in their eyes made begin to cry too. My dad held me in an embrace for a while clinging to me like I was oxygen . By the time I could look into his eyes, it felt like they were crimson red.

The next few days were slow and painful. I didn’t go to school and we had a lot of relatives in our house. “Mummy had died” that what I heard some of them say. I wasn’t going to see my mum again?

2 thoughts on “Ìrètíọ̀la (3)

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