Mr. Mothei
I wish I could tell someone. Scream my lungs out, share my pain, eliminate my anguish. But who...? How do I tell him I sympathize with him? How do I tell him I feel his pain? How do I let him know, am thinking of him! How do I let him know am here for him? Just a few weeks ago, we were in the same shoes. I looked at my father, his face swollen almost like if you were to puncture him with a needle, he would pop. His eyes, nose, lips, neck, arms, legs and feet. I only knew the voice behind the man. He was waddling...no longer strolling... A few hours later he is in ICU. So flat, so pale, no volume, so dry. Is this the man who was so full in the morning? Now, so empty. I would struggle to get the same pin past his skin. When his life flashed in front of his eyes, it also flashed in front of ours. How vulnerable is this breath of air we take for granted. What does it mean to be alive? What does it mean to be a father? What does it mean to a girl child to have a father? Could it have t...