Exactly 19 years and 2 months ago the curtain of Life on My dad
drew to a close. Year in year out memories of him flood my thoughts, daily I feel
his absence and more often I conjure images in my mind of things we would have
done together were he alive. Often I think about him and how different life
would have been for my siblings and I, an absence so intense I have never come
to terms with. I catch myself thinking silly and sometimes wishful thoughts of
how we would have gone through the menses conversation, the first boyfriend, numerous
heartbreaks, current lifestyles, my party animal stints in campus, my restless
job changing and I mostly I smile because I know he would never have judged me
and if he meted punishment I know in my heart he would have done it so lovely.
I remember vividly as my sister, brother and I run to his bedroom
as we did every morning since he got ill for chitchat and so that he could
catch up on our school work and whatever else was going on in our young lives. It mostly centered on us complaining “ooh daddy she did this, “huyu
alinichokoza” or we want something be it a book, crayons, toys or shoes. Then I
was 7 years old and so full of life. At that time he had been bed ridden for a
while and could not say or do much on his own. One thing I remember though is his hearty
laughter, the endless tickles we received and though weak his determination to
sharpen our pencils, his endless reassurance that all will be well. I did not
then understand what he meant by this but we would usually just lie there on
his bed listening to him talk , help with our homework and even sharpen our
pencils until one of the grownups came
to wade us off to school or just simply to let him catch some rest
But then came that fateful morning, expecting things to be
as usual we run into his bedroom but other than finding him asleep or doing his
crosswords we were met by an empty bed, the three of us sort of in unison started calling out “daddy
daddy daddy….and that’s when we saw him, daddy lay there on the floor…
and with no immediate understanding of what had transpired late in the night we
walked towards him, and I remember a fear, so fierce, so great, and greatly
foreign tag at my heart. On reaching him his eyes were shut, he looked pale and
on touching him, he was so cold … we tried waking him up, teasing, nudging him but
there was no response and that’s when one of my uncles walked in on us and took
us out of the room, we tried to bite, fight and even get back into the room but
we could not. I felt a pain so intense…
and that’s when it dawned on me, Daddy was no more, my usually bright and happy
world just came to an end that morning. I
lost the one and only parent that had been there for us through thick and
thick, the one parent who had been a mom and dad to me and my siblings, I lost the
anchor in my life.
A lot of years have gone by and I won’t dwell so much on
what happened in the period after he was laid to rest and now because so much
has transpired, some incidents so painful, so heart wrenching and some, things
a child should never bare on their own. I grew up so fast and unfortunately forgot
to be a child. The things daddy used to make sure we got, be it basic material
things, things as simple as love, companionship and laughter became luxury
overnight. For I owe it to myself to daily
struggle to be a better being, to be happy, to find love and to honor my late
dad, even if it’s in spirit. I struggle
with making the most of everything, making decisions that although at times not
good but the best at the time considering the circumstances. But despite my loss
all wasn’t lost. Lady luck smiled on me, I was born into a family with a loaded
paternal grandfather, go to Kericho county and mention my surname and I assure you,
I am royalty not the Nairobi hustler you know, the Prince William kind of thing
and all that comes with it, but that’s not all my grandpa is famously known for,
Grandpa affectionately known to me as #Batany and #Kimoro in my region has a heart of cold, is so principled but very
kind and generous as well.. And so the second phase of my life started under
the watchful eyes of my grandparents, and he with the support of my beautiful
forever young grandma tried as much as he could to make sure school fees is
paid, we are cloth and fed and that we never ever lacked but despite all these there
was an emptiness, so loud and intense, a wish full thinking for a normal
childhood, for things the way they had been with daddy.
I remember vividly a Christmas incident in the late 90s, it’s so clear it’s like it happened just
yesterday our extended family were all gathered, I come from a really huge
family with my granddad having two wives. On this particular Christmas, other
than the overall family photo we had to do family portraits and when it came to
our turn, it had my sister, brother and I. And that’s when I realized we will
never be like the rest of my cousins and we had to make do of what we had.
Then high school came and with a lot of inner turmoil,
adolescents checked in and I rebelled so so much because I felt no one
understood me, it’s funny the only thing that kept me going is the desire to
make my late father proud, I mean on several occasions he had always told me I will
be someone great some days. I had always topped my class all through elementary
school but come high school I was more concerned with just completing the 4
years. It’s during high school that I sort God as things were so crazy if I am
to pen down everything it will sound like a teenager high on drugs or suffering
from suicidal tendencies. At some point I didn’t know if I was craving love,
attention or it was just sheer hopelessness. Luckily in form3 I was lucky to
get a desk mate called Carol who understood me and sort of became my confidant,
even encouraged me. Then I had just been diagnosed with High Blood Pressure,
she stood by me and its then she encouraged me to find a different way of
healing especially through things that I like. I love writing and its then other
than the journal I have kept since I was 7 I started writing poetry, short
stories and even got to write for the hottest teen magazine in town
I am now past my mid-twenties and as much I have shed a lot of
tears, made a lot of mistakes, taken a lot of risks but I feel that if daddy is
looking down on me from above he would be proud of the young lady I turned out
to be. I have loved and cried in equal measure. I have hurt, been hurt and disappointed
so many times I stopped counting. I have fallen and sometimes so hard , a lot of
people wrote me off, but you know what, every time I reach and hit rock bottom
is where I find my true self, it’s when the greatest value he instilled in me
stand strong, humility, perseverance, hope and the love of God. Every time I go
through a dark or hard time, tears flowing endlessly it’s at this point that I
remember how much my daddy loved me, loved me unconditionally even when he was
in so much pain and its with this realization that I look up to God, and sort
of in comparison realize that if an earthly father loved me that much then God,
my heavenly father’s love must be greater in ten-folds.
And today until Sunday as people the world over celebrate
father’s day I want to salute my late father #John Kiprono Kirui Belyon, although nineteen years have gone by I dearly
hold on to memories of you ,near in spirit yet so far away…you will always be a
true hero in my eyes.. Guess what Sunday being the actual father’s day I would
have taken you for lunch all on me, I work nowadays you know.
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