That I thought last

a writing by Adeosun Olamide Ayo

It's been worthwhile here. Have met lots good souls here, lied a lots here too- and don't know if I'll get the chance to anymore. I guess- it will all be as it were- the old sayings- love those around you, listen to them- and show you care- show you do- while they still can feel, while you still can give-

It always comes first as an escape- you run in here, it seems out there is stormy- but late it comes- that it was your eyes that was wet- you run back out- to pacify your storms- but then- there is nothing. But I was lucky; for there was something- for me that mattered- someone who wasn’t swept away.

I always will love- my daughter- I don’t know her though- perhaps if I did- I may not- but I would- and even in my passing I'll love her more. She prelude my storm- and came at a very wrong season- If I knew too early- I would have sent her from me- she wouldn’t know- she wouldn’t remember I cried when I saw her and refused to hold her- she’d see the pictures- of me and my cat- and say- I must have been a lovely mother, she’d see the pictures of me smiling and would wish- I was there- there are no picture- for when I slit the cat throat- or when I slit my wrist- no pictures for when I screamed and would lock myself herein. I wish she knew- knowing I couldn't breast feed her or cuddle her- I felt her pain- I ran here to my pen and left her- it was my pen I could hold, my diary I could beheld- not her. And so -I ran out here. But each moment I was here- she was in my heart- gripping it, biting it- and it was on her- that I wrote.

She is here today- in her peace- with no memory of me. I guess- I can say- my bye with a peck- but I don’t want my tears on those pretty cheeks- I don’t want her infected with my curse- so I dwell on- facing the wall- letting my pillow breathe in- the sweat from my eye, from my nose- and dwell with you a moment- some of my lessons, my regrets-

I cared, I was bothered, I wasn’t ambitious, I attended shows, parties and waited hours for friends- It didn’t matter- it was where the crowds went- I choose, it was what they said- I wanted- when they said homosexuality was bad- I said it was worse and when I heard the minority should be given a chance to own that sexual preference- I agreed too and even marched so it is legalized. I was against abortion- though my friends did it often- the church frowned on it- and when it became a cause of freedom-I just didn't care- I followed it, supported it- signed petitions and did the same towards war- I supported those invasions but when I saw the pictures of those lovely looking kids- it bothered me and when again I saw those kids with gun- I didn’t care- let them die- I clamored too for the return of our men.

I guess- I didn't smoke, I had no reason to bleach as well- I ate healthy- lived healthy- but Cancer doesn't care- does it? It doesn’t care how poor or how good in heart- you may be, it doesn’t care if your life is just beginning to be meaningful or even if you just started a relationship with God- it doesn’t care- at first- the lump was to me- a distraction- I prayed and couldn’t give my little earnings in exchange for scans- until it came a pain, a sore, until it was close to late- there was no insurance, little savings- I was in the banner of God- my faith didn’t let me see those- that there could be crisis.

I was angry- I searched the internet- there was no cure, what have they been doing? I have had no reason to- in the past- I surfed further- read of miracles- and listened to sermons- but the pain dwelt on- I was angry- angry that the treatment of cancer received much little attention than a concert, than wars. That is no worse- what was worse is we don't care even- that we let spend billions in creating weapons that mar families- that rift brothers- that we chose silence- while billions waste away in meaningless wars and not a minor fraction of it- researching cancer- saving lives. My life wasn’t special- I began to think then of those whose life were, that have died in wars- Sons, husbands- of those that died of my disease- of those that didn’t care- I once was- coz I wasn’t affected. Well- I didn't even after the sign- perhaps if I did- I'd have more days-, find the lesson therein- for I can’t go on- He breaks down again and weep loud- he is been there long.

He is the father of my daughter, the loveliest of men, he stood with me- in my dark- held my hands and let my scream in him- he just wouldn't let go even after I bit him grasp. I wish for you- a man like him, for my daughter- a man like him. A man that wouldn't want you because of your breast or hair- because of your beauty, your knowledge- It is not so for me, I loved him- because of his looks- but after the mastectomy- I loved him differently- I hated myself- but he loved me more. And though my hair all was almost gone- and the mirror my greatest enemy- he still lied to me- lies that seems so true- that sometimes I believed I was better off than when I was well.

I have asked to be cremated- to have my ashes over the sea. I do not relish this moment- he is out there- weeping- we have waited long for this- and he is been strong since until now- this closing moment- He makes me weep too- but I just turn in my dark- and write this- that I thought last. It makes me sad too- that I couldn’t pay back- I wonder what he'll remember- my naggings, my anger- my refusal, my complaints- it matters to me- but hearing him weep- I guess he'll remember me for good.

I don’t know if I shared this- if I did- know I thought about it, to edit some words out of it- but I didn’t for I thought some would be useful for you- and those that are not- for another.
Have a good life ahead.

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