DUST

Death and self esteem have nothing in common. I thought so, until I was 10.

Having lost my dad, I felt my life would never remain the same again. Pain, anger, seclusion from the world, tears and agony, were my strong suit for quite a long time.

My first fear after he died  was my education. He loved education, and made himself available to ensure we were brilliant with school work. After he left, I perceived the center may no longer hold.

While I wrestled with the mental dazes that hung over me, I nursed an inner bruise.

Each time I see my colleagues hugging their dads, hints of tears will gather in my eyes. Memories of my dad will become fresh, and I will once again pour out my entirety in tears. 

As a father who barely misses PTA meetings, I plop like a deflated balloon when it's time for such a meeting in my school, and I look front and back, without any trace of him.

Ahh, if only spirits could be human! 

These bruises were nursed - in fact, they seemed not to heal.

I can't tell how. But it seems the less I thought about him, the mentally stable I became. Prior to the stability, I couldn't give answers to people's questions about my parents.

"What does your dad do?" May kill me faster than a bullet.

"Is your dad coming to pay your school fees?" Put the trigger to my forehead.

To help myself, I don't say anything.

Because each time I decided to say, "He is late," a knot tightens in my tummy and my nose runs.

"Oh, sorry," will be the concluding words of whoever asked me that question.

I ran in shades, and grew with fear and a sense of dejection. I thought people spoke about me like: "Ah, look at that dejected girl. Her dad is no more."

Or, "Poor girl. Her father has died. Isn't that sad?"

For this reason I get mad at anyone who says, "Sorry! God will take care of you. You should in turn take care of your mother."

In my mind, I'd conjure words. " Your rooten cunt! Don't you dare 'sorry' me."

If anyone told me I could be sane again after the incident, I would have been a Thomas. 

Well, I later healed. Yes, I-I healed, though not without the scar. 

Losing a loved one is no walk in the park. 

Do you have both parents alive? Appreciate their presence.