The loss of a mother especially at a tender age is grieve itself. I lost my mum due to the delay of being attended to in a poorly managed hospital.
For the first couple of days after her death, I lost touch with my emotions. I looked forward to crying, to grieve and blaming everything around me, but I couldn’t. All I could do was stare at my brothers and relatives crying.
Maybe I was shy to cry in public or I wanted to be strong for my family, I can’t really tell. I couldn’t feel anything even though it all happened in front of me.
I am my mother‘s only daughter. I felt no one could feel the pain I had to feel. I thought I was the only one who had the right to feel bad because I was really close to her. Watching every other person mourn, I realized everyone had a touch of her in them but for a moment I was bemused as to why they were all crying.
For God’s sake, she was my mother if anyone should be feeling the most pain, it’s me. “What’s with the drama?”…my paranoia kicked. Until I realized it was selfish of me to think that I was the only one that had a relationship with her.
No! she was so sweet, in fact too great to have impacted just one life, mine!
Death is painful. I do not pray for anyone to lose their loved ones especially a mom but if you do you’re allowed to feel bad for a couple of months weeks or maybe years. It took me seven years to get over my mom‘s death but it might be longer for some other person and that’s because people grieve differently but my advice is not to dwell on death but look at the bright side.
Enough about death stories! The question now should be, how did I get over grieving? Just like death tells no one it is coming, no one prays to lose a loved one. To keep death out of my household, I started to lead a spiritual life. There had been instances where I could’ve lost one or more close family member after my mom but the power of God kept us strong.
I learned to deal with the physical through the spiritual. I wish I knew God better while my mom was alive, I bet she wouldn’t have died. Putting God first in all I do has kept the devil out of my household.
Looking on the bright side, my mom‘s death has actually done me good. Sometimes I just stare up to the sky and see her face smiling down at me. She is happy that her death drew me closer to God.
If you are currently grieving the death of a loved one or you face it sometime in the future (which is inevitable), you’re allowed to be mad for a bit, cry for a bit, but do not dwell there.
Moving on will be hard but there is always a lesson to learn. Hold on to God, He’s the only one that can pull you out of anything. Hold onto him, he has a lot planned out for you, death shouldn’t be an excuse.
Knowing that you won’t be able to see, touch or interact with someone again comes with so much trauma especially when you know that if they were alive, things would have been a lot better in your life.
On February 22nd, 2007, exactly on a Thursday, I remember calling my dad from school to remind him of our inter-house sports competition and mid-term break so that he could come to pick me and my sister for the break but he never picked up his calls which was very unusual of him, so I put a call across to my mum, she wasn’t picking either.
The last option we had was to call our elder brother who immediately picked his call and told us dad had traveled, little did we know that he had traveled to have his eternal rest.
My brother assured us that he would be coming to pick us up. I started to get bothered, someone who traveled should be able to pick his calls right? but I shoved the thoughts away after convincing myself that my dad is a grown man and can take good care of himself.
March 1st, 2007, my brother came with my cousin to pick me and my sister up. As we arrived home, we met so many people in our house including the parish priest of my church. Some were crying while the rest wore sober faces. I was just 13 and had no idea what was going on, so I decided to go eat but my sister wouldn’t allow the food to go down my throat well as she kept asking the whereabouts of our dad.
After the meal, I realized I hadn’t seen my mum so I asked and was directed to go outside. That was when I was met with a picture of my dad on a well-decorated table, it was then I realized something had gone wrong. My aunt broke the news to me that my dad had passed on. I couldn’t believe it, I had always thought that the heart of my lovely dad will never cease to beat.
Diabetes snatched him away from us. I never had an idea it would be so soon, all I wanted was to achieve everything he wanted me to as he always said ‘Failure doesn’t come with the birth of a child but the decision of an individual’. Dear Dad, I know I failed you in this aspect while you were alive. I never valued these words up until you died.
I believe your death has brought me more self-love and confidence. If I could turn back the hands of time, I definitely would have listened to you and made people know that I am worth more than what they see with their naked eyes.
I believe life moves on and you wouldn’t want me to hold back on anything. If I could say something to you now, it would be that I miss you greatly and I appreciate every effort you made to make me realize how wonderful I am and the importance of self-love.
I believe you are in a place that gives you peace and you are proud of me and my siblings and the achievements we have made so far. We miss you and love you so much.
Losing a loved one can be heart-rending and depressing. I have seen people slip into depression because they lost a loved one, and I never really understood the extent to which the loss of a loved one could take a toll on one’s life until I lost a dear friend.
Babangida and I met in secondary school. It was 2001 and I had recently been enrolled in an all-boys boarding school. I was finding it difficult making friends because I couldn’t speak fluent Hausa, and most of the students couldn’t communicate in English or Pidgin English; two languages I could speak with relative ease. Words travelled fast that a fake Americana had been admitted and I was treated like an exhibit in a museum.
Everybody wanted to see the guy who didn’t understand Hausa. I told them that I grew up in the barracks and that because the barracks was a melting pot of people of different tribes, Pidgin English is the lingua franca. My explanations didn’t help. Just when I was dying of loneliness and boredom, I met Babangida and we sort of clicked. It was as if we had known each other for years. We bonded really well and became inseparable.
We both graduated and relocated to our respective states of residence; I, to Gombe, and Babangida, Plateau state. A couple of months later, I ran into a former classmate, Bashir, and he dropped a bombshell: he told me Babangida had passed on. I didn’t believe him at first, so I pressed him for details. He told me that he had heard that Babangida went to a stream to do his laundry and drowned after he mistakenly fell into the deep end. I treated the news with some doubt since he didn’t witness the incident. But as time went on, I ran into other former classmates of mine who corroborated Bashir’s story. My doubts began to taper off and I started to entertain the possibility that Babangida was really dead. For days, my heart ached and I was overwhelmed with grief.
Before Babangida’s passing, I had always thought that death only snatched certain kind of people. His death made me realize that death is a leveller and that it is no respecter of persons.
My friend’s death dealt me a severe blow. For days on end, I would stare blankly, hoping and praying that I would wake up and realize that news of my his passing was a dream. Getting over his death, an irreparable loss, was difficult. But as they say, “Time heals all wounds”.
Part of my healing process was letting go of anything my friend liked that would remind me of him. Anything from music, movies to fashion and hobbies.
Even if I could turn back the hands of time, there was nothing I could have done to avert my friend’s untimely death because I believe it was fated to happen. In the days leading up to his death, I had had a series of nightmares.
It was an omen of impending death but I couldn’t put two and two together, and that’s probably because Babangida didn’t feature in my nightmares. His death still hurts. He was my best friend, and since his death, I have not had another.
Finding words to describe the death of a loved one is overwhelming as it feels like some cold night where deep truth comes to hunt.
Losing Godwin to the cold hands of death changed my perception of certain things. It was like a string holding my heart was cut.
My ‘mystery friend’ as I fondly called him always walked up to my lonely, quiet self in class. With so much boldness he will say “why are you not smiling”, “you no dey smile?” Those words had a special strange way of brightening my face, and then after, we’ll start conversing.
It wasn’t like I couldn’t snub him, I mean who walks up to someone they don’t know and obliges them in such manner. But Godwin was different, asides his intelligence and calmness, he wore a calm spirit which he tried so hard to disguise.
We started getting pretty close that I will include his portion while cooking, serve in a cooler and send it to his hostel. He did the same for me too. We always had lunch together at the cafeteria, studied together with his friends. We eventually became so close, argued, bantered, debated… ohh! How endless the list was.
Suddenly after a long holiday, our department rep announced that Godwin was sick and won’t be resuming soon. Who would’ve imagined that a minor fall could result in dislocation and a serious leg injury and swellings? Every day the injury grew worse.
One faithful day he put a call across to me from his sickbed, and said; “babe, did I offend you, you cannot even call to check up”. I apologized sincerely and said I was going to check up more often, cause I mean he was so dear to me. We ended the call after filling ourselves with some good laugh.
A few days after, a bad day came smiling. Our department rep announced that Godwin was dead. He died from the cancerous leg injury.
Ohh dear, dear!!! It felt like a carpet was pulled off my feet. So much pain that as I write, it still tortures me. I almost collapsed, my colleagues had to support me back to my hostel. Ever felt so much pain that hits every fiber of your organs that you cannot move? I felt like a comatose struggling to regain my freedom from pain, but I couldn’t.
Our last conversation began to play in my head as regrets choked my heart. So he already said his last goodbye. It felt like the devil began to flog me with his words, they wouldn’t leave my head. The thought of saying I was going to check in again but didn’t kept hunting me.
Cries they say can’t bring back the dead but I wish mine did. Prior to his death, I used to think, some things could wait for later, but now, my whole orientation is reformed. It dawned on me to always do what is obtainable while I still can.
Reach out to loved ones often, forgive, pray. I know It’s easy to lose track, get carried away in your own world, but that one minute of your time won’t bite. That one minute, I wish I had to call my mystery guy and make him smile, chat and banter.
His funeral was a whirlwind of tears, if it was possible for someone to get drowned in tears, I would have, but tears wouldn’t bring him back. I thought of running to him while he laid in state and then shouting “stand up!”, hoping he will hear me.
I beat myself each time I remember I forgot to check up. A simple call, visit or text could have made a difference, but I did none. Even though death might have still knocked, I would have felt a better peace.
But like we believe, “Everything happens for a reason”. I thank my mystery guy for such beautiful memories and having a good impact on my life with his genuine friendship. Rest On Godwin.
Goodbyes are hard to say, I couldn’t help but agree the moment I got the news of little Alvin’s death. I’ve lost close relatives and friends but I can literally say his death was the most painful loss I’ve ever experienced.
Little Alvin was a sweet loving kid, I enjoyed watching him blossom into an intelligent young man. His love for Disney Junior was typical of every active kid, once he fixes his gaze on the TV, no one dares to change the channel otherwise tantrums would become our lullaby the rest of the day. He was very loving regardless.
“Aunty Queen, thank you”… I can still hear the sound of his serene voice thanking me for buying him eggs and grapes on my way back for the holidays.
My Sunday was going well, I had attended an ushers get together from church only to receive a call in the midst of the happy moments that my little Alvin was dead. “Dead how?”, I questioned in the midst of the confusion that accompanied the news. How can Alvin be dead? I kept asking until the call ended.
No way, it was a bitter pill to swallow, If any of my relatives wanted to prank me, would it be with the news of death? I soliloquized. I ran home in tears from the party to my friend and also a sister in Christ who stayed in the same hostel with me to pray with me, perhaps God will perform a miracle.
After speaking in tongues through our tears for some minutes, Little Alvin didn’t wake up. Several calls still confirmed his death.
Ohh!! How I cried. Prior to his death, I usually have premonitions anytime something bad was about to happen but in this case there was no gut feeling.
I always knew death was inevitable, but my idea about death was that a person has to be very sick before they die or maybe through accidents. I never envisaged that a little kid so full of life could just die without any of the factors involved.
The death of little Alvin changed my ideology on life and death. No one ever knows when he/she will die; so live every day as though it’s your last because tomorrow isn’t promised.
If I could turn back the hands of time I would love to spend more time with him. Each time I see kids of his age, I begin to imagine how grown and smart little Alvin who I often call ‘uncle Alvin’ would have become. He died at the age of 5.
People often say they get over grief by removing everything that reminds them of their lost loved one but I still hold on to I and Alvin’s memories. The pictures, his reading chair, wardrobe and the rough markings he made in some corners of the house are still here. I always wear a smile each time I see them.
I can only thank God because who knows, Alvin could have grown into a fine man but so toxic to the family and society, or he would have died at a more advanced age after much investment in him. It would have been a bigger blow and shock to us.
His death taught me something very striking which is, “the most painful goodbyes are those ones we didn’t have the opportunity to say”.
I read somewhere that the death of a loved one is a curious thing. We all know that our time in this world is limited and that eventually all of us will end up underneath some sheet, never to wake up. And yet it is always a surprise when it happens to someone we know.
It is like walking up the stairs to your bedroom in the dark, and thinking there is one more stair than there is. Your foot falls down, through the air, and there is a sickly moment of dark surprise as you try and readjust the way you thought of things.
The saying “everything you’ve ever wanted is on the other side of fear”, does not apply to death no matter how fearful we are of it. Death is inevitable and no form of courage can save us from biting the dust.
While we are privileged to be reading this because we are alive and hopefully well, some of us have had a close feeling of what death feels like. Some of us miss our loved ones who’ve been cuddled by the cold hands of death.
To commemorate this month of love, February, I decided to use this platform to feature some eulogies to our loved ones who left us too early even though we’re made to believe the creator knows best.
If you had the opportunity to say some words to them, what will that be?
Death is the inevitable end of Man. And most people have experienced the demise of a loved one at one time or the other. People respond to it differently.
For me, my weird mind begins to reason a lot of things. In the midst of the pain, I find myself scouring through their pictures, videos and write-ups (esp. on social media), searching for signs. Every word they ever said takes on a different meaning.
The pictures and videos are the ones that mess with my mind the most. Dope pictures look gloomy. The pictures they’re not smiling look like they’re mourning. The ones were they’re smiling and laughing are the most pathetic. It’s as though they were enjoying the last days of their life.
As if they knew it would happen and were just saying goodbye.
“If I give you my all would you love me? Well, probably not because that goodbye kiss tasted like something that came out from the devil’s lips”.
I once said to my heart, “take me back to my first heartbreak will you?” It said no, for the memory like the night, is dark and full of terrors. But guess what, without a hitch, renowned Nigerian poet and spoken word artist, Banji Coker, brought back those memories with his latest EP ‘If You See Me Liking A Girl, Shoot me!’
What can you say about your first heartbreak? For some, it was the death of a loved one, and some the disappearance of true love from their lives.
Banji Coker’s ‘If You See Me Liking A Girl, Shoot Me’, capitalizes on the innocence of true love and the betrayal of love. He narrates his first heartbreak and the baggage it comes with. Is there a possibility of finding love again in the future? From his tone, we can see that the baggage is so heavy and it will take a lot of weight to pull it down.
The Life of A Broken Heart
Especially if it’s your first, heartbreaks triggered by lost love takes a long time to get replenished and Coker’s EP hit these areas in a subtle but piercing manner.
Look in retrospect, see through all the love you’ve entertained your whole life, there is always that one person who leaves you not only heartbroken but makes you question your esteem. Why did they go away? Was I not good enough? Who are they smiling with right now? Could I not have made her happy enough to stay?
‘If You See Me Liking A Girl, Shoot Me’ paints Coker as a total failure at love and worst off, a rookie in getting over it. This is also the story of most of us who for every time we remember, a part of us dies. In his case, Coker cannot remember to forget the parting kiss.
He is hurt and desperately looking for a remedy. “…because I have been going around in cycles trying to figure out what exactly is the right thing to do…”
How do Broken Hearts Heal?
Do broken hearts heal? Well, I can’t really say, maybe for some and that’s after a very long time. For the better half, it metamorphoses into a variety of phobia especially at finding love again.
Coker Voyages a web of delusion. He finds himself comparing a prospective love affair to his past, while unable to wake up to the reality that his lover has gone.
“With the little space between your teeth, you reminded me of someone I fail at forgetting. Then, with that awkward smile after, I knew you were a no go area”.
Many of us walk the same path as Coker. One heartbreak and we shut the doors completely. If we let in, we don’t let in completely, paranoia becomes the other of the day.
It’s always a tough one for our new significant other. They keep wondering where they have gone wrong and sometimes get their self-esteem trampled on in trying to love us.
My Five Cents: Rebounds do not work. If you are not ready to love again then be like Coker, make it a no-go area. He said “…You would think we would be so in sync but then again I can’t forget my history. I owe my heart such responsibility.” Love yourself enough to heal first before taking a step with love again.
Love is beautiful but never force a person to love you, if you see that they aren’t completely over their ex, allow them be. Don’t promise them love because you’ll end up nursing a baggage too heavy for your hands to carry.
Even though love is preached as kind, patience, and sacrifice, you must also bear in mind that it is at every corner waiting to embarrass you if given the chance.
‘If You See Me Liking A Girl, Shoot Me’ is a nostalgic smudge for anyone who has experienced true love and heartbreak.
Remember those nights when you had no one to call because explaining the situation does not do justice to how your entire being feels?
Remember those days when you hoped your phone rang and it will be their name on display?
Did you forget so soon the times you couldn’t eat but the only strength running was used to power those tears that trickled down your cheek?
Recall the times you fondled your pillow and ran your legs across the bed begging sleep to sweep you off your feet? But it won’t?
If you remember all these or at least one, free your mind, allow Coker take you on this journey of love and hurt. Hearty Cheers to those who have healed. Breathe! for solace is coming for you too seeking healing.
Dear mum, do you sometimes feel like my social life is ruined because of the man you married? I see it in your eyes, whenever you talk about some specific kids my age, the opportunities they get, and how you wish one of your kids will at least catwalk in similar shoes. You want more, I see it but for the most part, you’re scared you would never get it. The entirety of your wanting more is for your kids and you’re too scared to admit that things could have been more bliss but for the glitch in parenting. I know deep down when you have your sober reflections, you cut a larger piece of the blame for yourself. You detest the social awkwardness your children suffer but unfortunately, it is who we are now. Don’t be too hard on yourself mum, or fault the stricken strictness of your husband, I must confess, I’ve grown to enjoy the beauty of my personhood, I’m entertained by my baby steps even in adulthood.
Why worry about my love life mum? Did you expect I would have tied the knot so easy? You did I know, and it’s a shame. How do you plant corn seeds and expect to reap big tubers of yam? Every time you say “Ujunwa you must marry o, onye amuru na amu ibe ya (He that is birthed must birth)”, I get attracted to the frustration that strengthens the tone of your voice and the confused rotation of your eyes. You hate my nonchalance towards marriage I know, hence me making sure my first response is usually “Na so” (a payback maybe). Even though you emphasize my age, I know it’s the least of your worries. You’re scared something is wrong with me psychologically, you regret not creating a bond between us from inception. Well, I used to be a lot in my feelings when I was much younger about this, especially when I hear someone say “My mum is my best friend”, I lowkey hated them for having what I could never have, but along the line, I figured it’s still surreal to have best friends who are not mums.
Hmmm, mum, you mean to tell me that one day, I’ll have to foot the bills of my kids as you and Dad do? Scary shit! I think of you sometimes and I wonder how rich you’ll have become if you didn’t birth any kids. “Mummy this! Mummy that! Mummy this” from every corner of the home even down to the extended family. When I was younger, I was lowkey scared, I thought you needed help psychologically because there was rarely a time I’ll barge into your room and not find you talking to yourself. “Watch mummy, she’s always talking to herself”, I once hinted at my sister frightfully, but the she-goat wasn’t as sensitive. Reminiscing on those moments as an adult, now I can relate. The bills were so overwhelming, I bet you cried your eyes silly sometimes but stupid me always bragged to my friends in high school about how rich my parents are. It’s not my fault, there was not one thing I asked that you didn’t make sure was provided, even when dad reiterated how trivial it was, you made sure I and my siblings got it.
I had never felt so much guilt spending your money until the conversation we had some time last month and you openly said your salary before you retired banking was N120,000. What!! I held myself throughout the gist and amid the laughter, I was breaking inside and that night I suffered a lack of sleep and shed a few tears thinking about you and how much dad’s salary would have been too because he was also a banker. The salary you used in sustaining a home was my first job salary which I considered too small, I still cannot imagine how you were able to send 5 kids to good schools, clothing, feeding, etc. I regret tripling my school fees and money for handouts, I guess I was influenced by my brother who one time said to me “Anything they ask you to pay for in school, better double it, mummy and daddy have money, they’re just pretending”. For some reason, these words stuck with me through university, If I had known how much you were earning I swear I would have been considerate.
The Sex Conversation
Another thing I’ll be shocked to find out is if you still have sex mum. I watch you and sometimes your eyes tell that you’re unhappy for some key reasons yet you run with the bias that “mothers are supposed to keep the home, and not show fragility!” I see how you smile watching your favourite sitcom, ‘The Johnsons’, especially the hilarious lovey-dovey scenes of the couple characters Emu and Lucky. You wish you could share love gestures like that with your husband huh? I know. Do you still have sex? I doubt. I figured you got tired of wanting some things and adjusted, now you’re such a good actor who suffers a romantic awkwardness with her husband. I wish we could have a sex conversation, I long to know your definition of a spark and your fantasies about marriage. It’s glaring there’s a lot you hide in those cupboards locked in your eyes.
I know you’re eager to know if I’m sexually active too but you’re not sure if my answer will break or merry your heart. You could have asked during the Vagina pills conversation, but you blew your shot by feigning ignorance as usual. Well, I suffered genophobia for decent years and all I needed were the words of a mum or better put, my mum, holding my hands and saying summarily to me “It’s not that deep”.
The Death Conversation
I hate how brutally honest you’re with death, although you’re dramatic when you cry over death, yet your move on is superb. When I lost my close friend Blessing and always cried my eyes out and got scared to sleep, I hated how you handled it. “You better stop crying, your friend has left this wicked world and you’ll leave one day too”, despite admitting you’ve never seen me that broken yet you refused me succour. You said the bitter truth though but still…you made me question your tendencies of being heartless especially when I hinted at seeing her in my dream and you quickly rebuked it. I went on to ask if you’ve seen your late father in the dream and with a much covered up hostile tone, you responded “What for? My father is resting peacefully, only dead people who are bad are seen in dreams”. This tops the list of the ignorant things you’ve ever said.
If you die today Mum, I’ll still love to host you in my dreams just to have you echo my name, and annoy me with silly chores like calling me on the phone to help you get something from the fridge even though you’re seated literally at arm’s length from the fridge. I’ll still love to see you for sometime mum. You’re right about the need to move on after death, I just hate your approach in telling it.
You are not among the most popular or powerful women in the world, not every mum is. We might not have had any tangible mother-daughter conversation, it doesn’t mean I haven’t learned anything from you. I have learned so much. Ooo boy! You’re a fervent preacher of ‘Savings’, although I somewhat hate how you preach it harshly and remind me of impending sufferings if I do not adhere. I know you think I’m a dummy in this aspect but ever heard of the saying “Never tell your parents how much you’re earning and how much you’ve saved”? Don’t be scared, I have some little saved. And your trenchant wit quote “Not having money is a sin” has become my mantra too, again don’t be scared, I wouldn’t end up poor.
I learned the beauty of “Support being reciprocal” from you. When I observed that sometimes the blended tomatoes in the house is sometimes sour and other times sweet. I asked why and you opened up about rotating two different sellers. I complained that you ditched the bad tomato seller but you told me it wasn’t possible because both women buy from you. You added that support is reciprocal and that even if it meant having to eat not too good tomatoes for a week, you’ll bear it. Since that conversation mum, I make sure to support every friend’s business who reads my blog as much as I can. However, in an attempt to practice rotating among my two cloth vendor friends who are dedicated readers of my blog, like the bad tomato seller, one served me shitty customer service, to date, I have not gotten my dress. My encounter is not to nullify your lesson on support but opens my eyes on the unreliable nature of some folks.
Dear mum, most of the words written here are the conversations I wish we could have or you should know. This should be the right opportunity but unfortunately, you don’t read my blog. No, I’m not pissed, I promise. I only feel it’s a subconscious tit for tat as I hate to unhook your bra on most occasions. No hard feelings, only that you mostly show up when I’m having a not-so-good time.
ABOUT YOUR MUM
Last week was mother’s day and before it, I’ve been asking some close friends when exactly is Mother’s day cause I know there’s usually an established confusion with the dates, all thanks to varying church denominations. I had prepared pointers for this story some months ago and felt having it published on Mother’s Day would be great but how unfortunate, I missed the rapture. I was amused to see “happy mothers day mum”, on almost everyone’s story last Sunday and went on to query my friend Bubu for not keeping me abreast. Her hilarious response via chat was “Who you blame? This one is not acknowledged on Google, they said this one na pentecostal mother’s day, catholic’s own is still coming, then the one that is recognized worldwide is on its way too”.
Hmmmmm, rather than miss the next and even the next, I decided to have this post come up today because there’s every likelihood that I’m gonna be caught unaware the umpteenth time. Do you know the recognized date for Mother’s day?
Anyway, I want us to talk about our mothers today, not in the cliche way that we’re fond of, for instance “My mum is the best mum in the world”, you know that’s a fallacy right? I want this version of describing mums to be real, vulnerable, and unique. Those little and big bits you’ve observed about your mum, those words you wish you could say, conversations you should have had, let’s talk! Telling some sides of the story will most definitely hurt you, or make you tear up like I did when writing this, but I want you to be vulnerable in telling. If your mother is late or peradventure you were abandoned as a child, I urge you, don’t feel left out, please share. I’m sure you have memories and if not, there are still some things you wish you could say to them. Feel free.
Like you’ve read mine, please leave yours in the comment section so we can all learn. You might not be able to write as long as I did, but I’m sure you can pick an intense part of the narrative to relay. So shall we👇👇.
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Love is patient, love is kind, it doesn’t envy, it doesn’t boast blah blah blah…really?! And why is ‘Funny’ not included as a quality of love, and how about ‘Premium Tears’? 😭Enough with Corinthians already😪! This verse of the bible is more than enough reason for me to clench to my unpopular opinion that the bible was made for a certain people at a certain time on earth. And if you ask me, just like constitutions need amendment every once in a while, the bible does too but that’s not our topic for today😶. So breathe🙇♀️…
How many people have you loved on this earth? No, excluding your family members and the platonic friendships you’ve had. I mean the love that felt like love and made you fantasize a happy ever after but unfortunately, your ship sunk in the Bermuda Triangle🤭, leaving you to lick your wounds whilst premium tears rolled down from your eyes😭. Isn’t love funny? one moment you think THIS IS IT! And the next moment you’re rehearsing OMO X 100000000🤣.
I was talking to my friend the other day and one talk led to another and then he started to gist me about an old lover of his who suddenly showed up in his life after he announced his flamboyant engagement online🤣. She had a scroll of things to say, things she never said while they were dating, and even while the premium break up tears were still fresh😏. She had to wait 6,000 years, maybe she thought it would be better to report him to Jesus directly hence her remaining mute, but unfortunately for her, Jesus is still soon to come👩🦯.
Hmmmmm it dawned on me that we are similar, me and her, and likewise you, and many other folks out there🤫. I’ve dated a handful of boys and some men. I have seen myself happy in love and also have my head hit the wall severally to cure my pain🥲. I’ve had a great time laughing in bed, most times naked, communicating my love to the best of me, and exchanging saliva and intellect too🤤. I’ve also had a downtime weeping for love while IN LOVE, I yearned for one that spoke my language, covers my flaws and the flawed inattentiveness of these men🤦♀️. Not that I was entirely good too, some of these men found me too slow, some, very threatening to their ego💁♀️. In all, we loved till we were unable to anymore.
Letting go of love doesn’t erase the memories, it doesn’t erase the secret thoughts we shallow buried in our minds🥺. These thoughts hurt sometimes and if only we had one more opportunity to converse with our ex-lovers and let them all out… if only…👩🦯
I choose to address you as ‘Panda’ because it soothes your personality😊. No, you are not fat, but everyone loves a panda because their personality looks soothing and cute just by mere looking, and so is yours🤗. Before we started dating, I had a deep crush on you and carefully carved my steps so you’ll notice me😏. And the first day we spoke remains the only time I’ve ever been happy to come home and not find the house keys🤣🤣. If my sister had left the keys, you wouldn’t have found me stranded to involve me in a conversation🤭. The first mistake of our love was having it in secrecy and no darling, I do not blame you, I was barely 18 and my elder brother will slit your throat if he found out😑. Then again, you loved the church (I hope you still do🤥), and was the hero, the peacemaker, the exceptional final year student, the first son…yen yen yen😑… so many titles that made you feel it was a grave sin against your God and mankind when we had our first kiss and precum wetted your boxers😶.
“I feel like I’ve sinned, getting romantic with you made me feel so dirty…When I was young, a prophet told my mother that I shouldn’t be involved with a lady…” Wait! How many hours did it take you to rehearse these lines before you interrupted my beauty sleep for midnight calls🤣🤣? Till today, I wonder how a twenty-something-year-old would leave an 18-year-old hanging with some talk coated in cowardice😏. You really wish I was scared of prophets🤣. Well, because of you, I now hate religious fanatics, avoid first sons like a plague, and men who are book smart but street dull👩🦯.
Let’s be fair, for an 18-year-old, I tried, I communicated unlike you who would rather visit your religious book to select words to say to me☹. After dragging both ends of the rope with hopes that when I got into the university, we’ll have a share of freedom to properly love, you still had some hogwash lines reserved for me🥺. “Hey mama! Just have fun, blend with the environment, don’t feel limited to explore”…this was after I asked you if you were still in. What a shame you couldn’t declare your lack of interest boldly🙄. For a fact, I’m thankful you left actually because I surely exploreeeeeeeddddddd and you my love, would have been a burden👩🦯.
In all, thank you for evoking the writer skills in me🥰. Before I met you, I thought writers descended from space but seeing you write kickstarted my own journey🤗. I still have your writings in my journal.
The one who is very likely mistakened for slow but you are fire😉. Very intelligent and knows a bit about everything. Frankly, I didn’t want to date you😶, I mean how can I date a guy in my department and worse of the same level with me🤢? It was so against my rules but then, you’ve been long into the friend zone and I thought this nigga sure deserves a promotion🤭. I felt the weight of dismay and disappointment in your face when you discovered I was a virgin🙃. If only you could turn back the hands of time right! but too late. Mehn! All the major fights we had was about sex, you couldn’t imagine how it is that someone could be scared of sex😵, what a shame😑, despite all the knowledge you had, you never read of genophobia👩🦯. I regret all the times I cried to sleep because you wouldn’t touch me except it was sex. Trust me, with the way you always glorified sex, you must be foolish to think that I never knew you were cheating the whole time of our almost two years🤧.
“Why do I feel like this is our last conversation?” Nah, you assured me. Said you couldn’t stay any longer but promised we’ll see in the morrow😒. I tried to believe you but a still voice beneath kept yelling; “This is it! This is the last time you’ll see him”. And that was it, you never showed up again😭. I felt insulted reaching out to you with a lengthy note via WhatsApp, and all you responded was “Aiit”🤦♀️. You didn’t even acknowledge me with respect and not abbreviate the word ‘Alright’. What exactly was alright in all I sent you 🥺?
You never reached out, I was miserable😖. Days turned into weeks and weeks decayed into months yet no words from you😪. I needed closure, I hoped that one day you would call. I was always anxious to pick calls from unsaved numbers hoping it’s you saying hello from the other side😓. But No. Frankly, It would have been better if you were dead because my situation felt like someone who knew not the whereabouts of their loved one and every day they hoped they would come home or better still receive news of their death so they could move on😔.
I wonder, so if I didn’t put a call across after almost two years of ghosting, you wouldn’t have?😏 Well, sweet to know we’ve buried the hatchet and you remain one of my favorite persons🤗. And I also hope you’ve been enjoying all the sex in the world because just maybe that’s the core of your existence.
Chameleon because when I feel I have figured you out, you switch to a new color😖. Our relationship was extremely loving yet extremely confusing too; a detrimental polar opposite🤦♀️. We had so much love to give yet hoarded it in ego and replaced it with fervent miscommunication🙇♀️. Gosh!! We argued about everything and became too toxic to stay together yet not bold to leave🙍♀️. You made me reckon with the lines “love is not everything” and I’m grateful I mustered the bravery to say I wasn’t interested anymore🥲. I didn’t do it for just me baby, we needed it. I know you’re still shocked we didn’t end up together, I am sometimes too, and whenever it hits me I say within “You did what was best girl”👩🦯.
How can two grown adults who say they love each other go radio silent on each other for three weeks and to think we even raised the bar a certain time for two months😱!? That was the last straw for me and I remember whispering aloud under my breath “MY MUMU DON DO”🤭. My personality was too strong for you and rather than communicate your displeasure you’d rather look for a way to bruise my ego😔. All the times you said “Uju now, but I was only joking”, I never believed you cause I’m a fan of the saying “people hide under the aegis of jokes to say what they do not have the courage to say normally”. And then everything was always a competition, I got so scared of breaking my good news to you, maybe I always read your gestures wrongly, just maybe… anyway, I hope you’ve found the love you deserve🤗.
DID I OPEN YOUR SCARS TOO?
Still have a bunch of stuff to say but I’ve been getting some mild jabs that my stories are becoming way too long 🤣🤣 so I’ll just continue on Naked Minds. Did any of my exes remind you of yours? Anyway, I decided to make this post an open diary aka a vent room for us to talk about the unsaid stuff we never said to our ex(es)🥲. And No! It’s not just only three guys I’ve dated, I felt so ashamed having to count all my fingers and begun counting all over again when my friend asked during our conversation “But Uju, how many guys you don date self?”… while counting, we both burst into uncontrollable laughter🤣🤣.
Well, these are the only three I recognize, the rest can face back please😑 …So over to you, I’ll like you to share those unsaid words you wish you could say to your ex(es), doesn’t have to be something lengthy or bad and you don’t have to talk about all of them (one or two is fine) or address them by their real names🐄🐖. Also if you have any reservations concerning any of my exes, feel free to say in the comment🤧. Remember, this is my side to the story, they might have a better or unappealing narrative about me but I really don’t care👩🦯.
Also, do you feel it’s right to still maintain communication with an ex? Let’s talk Mutterers, this should be enlightening and fun😁… leave me your comment👇…and never forget, this is a safe place😝👇👇.
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