15th AUGUST

Franklin A.N.
@anfranklin784877
1 month ago

📌15TH AUGUST

I woke up with a certain terror. It wasn't the bathroom on my flat ,it was my family house in Onitsha.

I knew it was going to be a rough ride and it indeed was.
It was a rainy day, to add up to the melancholy and the deep sadness I was feeling.

Gloom hovering over our faces. It's a wonder that it's August again and I shaved my hair like I did 10years ago.
A few days ago,I took one look at my hair and brought it down.

Exactly in front of the mirror, just like I did 10years ago after I cried myself to stupor.
Daddy had died, Daddy would be gone forever.

I came out of the bathroom dreading the fact that my dad was going to be laid to earth.
Both Terror and horror struck me at once, looking at my mother in mourning clothes.

A wet weather to decorate the melancholia that was summed up in the whole situation.

My beautiful mother would be known henceforth as widow. She looked so unqualified to be a widow just yet, she was soft to be one,she was too fragile and beautiful to bear that title.

The night before just like last night,we all stayed up the last floor of my father's two storey building and the air was melancholic as I looked over the market. Lights scattered in bits all over the market overview and residential areas.

It was a little view to River Niger too but you couldn't quite see from the standpoint.

Everyone was ready and soon went downstairs for the burial, while I was stuck in a rigmarole of events with my aunt upstairs.
It's still a cracked bit,like a piece of wood chipped off at the edge; because I heard wailings and crying but then,I didn't see my Daddy being drove in to his compound.

I was only downstairs with my aunt after he was laid in state.
I remember looking into his coffin wondering if he had forgotten suddenly the priceless love we shared,Were we not that important anymore?

What appealed to him on the other side than where we were?
I read out the tribute I wrote for him.
I penned down something so heartbreaking everyone was crying.
I had written something of a 'dirge' piece, so sorrowful everyone cried harder than they expected to do so.

Now I understand why July and August is more morose than any other time in my calendar.

My hair is shaved again but I didn't even realise why I had the urge to bring my hair down till it was a correspondent action with the urge I felt days ago and a decade ago.

Just like my Daddy, July and August is a season of death and birth for me.
After Daddy was laid to earth,I knew another dimension had started and so it is now, I'm somewhere between dying and being birthed.

✍🏾_
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📷_
Ëmp Rëss

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@anfranklin784877 @cameronjackson3776 @ayamartin2333