This chapter mainly comprises of Ezekiel's life experience.
Moral lesson: Don't be too quick to judge. Everyone has their own story to tell, and that story transpires in how they live their lives.
P. S. This is one of my best chapters yet.
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Ezekiel's POV (Point of view)
Mum hadn't always been like this you know.
Two years ago, she never had cancer . . . Or so I thought, and she certainly wasn't hooked up to a life supporting machine.
Two years ago, when things were still normal and balanced like I hope they were now, we used to live just like one- my mum, dad and I. Once upon a time, we would travel round the country just to watch the sun set and crickets crick.
Dad would take his annual two months leave from work every year like he had always done just to stay with us- just the three of us. Mum, like the amazing cook that she was, would cook loads upon loads of food to take on our trip.
We never finished eating any of them . . . Just like every other year. At the end of the day, to prevent waste, mum would pack them in disposable containers for distribution purposes.
She had always been a kind woman, an hero to all and a big time role model to others . . . Until life decided to place its disgusting claws on her.
I guess she paid too much time on others that she forgot to do the same for herself. She had always been like that- looking out to help other people, and in the process, forgetting to take care of her self.
We never thought we'd face any problems, because through the happiness and solace we had in out family, we never imagined that things would go sideways.
Dad met mum when he was getting his masters degree in Sierra Leone, mum was also fortunate to had gotten a scholarship there for her master's too. Dad was twenty five and mum was just twenty two or so.
They were so young and presumably so in love.
They got engaged three years later, then mum was barely above twenty five and dad was approaching twenty nine. Somehow, they resided to the US a year later, got married and had me the following year.
All before their early thirties.
According to the little I was told, the family of both parties involved weren't in support of the marriage . . . Dad was just about picking up the beginnings of his life, and they claimed mum was too independent for a burnt just concluded college masters degree holder.
Dad didn't tell me the reason for their relocation abroad, but I had a hunch it had something to do with their families and their relationship in general.
Wasn't that supposed to serve as a motivational to the both of them?
Well, guess what, it didn't.
Twelve years after they had me, i.e thirteen years after their marriage, mum and dad began to have problems. We were still living in the US when their marriage began to go downhill, I was so young that I couldn't understand anything.
What I remembered was that, every night, mum and dad would argue and argue like there was no tomorrow. Dad would yell and yell, and mum would scream and scream that the whole of US would hear them.
Then one day, it all ended . . . Just like that. It ended the night they called me to sit, and announced they were getting a divorce.
I was just turning fifteen then, two years info highschool. Still, I was still so young that I could barely understand anything.
I would think and think and think all night, then cry myself to sleep till the following morning. They were so in love, we we're one happy family, what had gone wrong?
Did something happen?
Is dad sick? Is mum sick?
Or, did they miss their families?
Those were questions I'd myself ask myself, with no one to answer them.
One memory still remains engraved in my mind. Just like every other night, they began to argue and I stood hidden, crying and balling my eyes out just above the stairs to the left.
I was almost fifteen then, just four months to my birthday in July.
"I'm tired of this Wura, so tired of all of . . . this! You go out in the morning, come back at night drunk out of your mind, and expect me to say nothing?" I heard dad shout from downstairs and my eyes began to water.
Then came mum's slurred voice. "You don't think I'm too? Guess what, I'm getting tired of this too!"
I asked my naive self, what exactly were they referring to as 'this'?
Surely, people don't get tired of being married, do they?
"I gave up everything for you, everything! My family, my career, my life , virtually my existence. But what do I get in return? Nothing!" I peeped around the corner and saw mum wiping her runny nose with her white long sleeve shirt she had wore to work that morning.
Dad stood, starring at her in confusion as if she had gone out of her mind.
I was convinced she had.
"You take so much from me, yet I get nothing back in return from you. I'm human too you know, I give love and I expect love too just like a human should. But what do you give me? Silly expectations about better days ahead and nothing more. I'm tired too, tired, tired and so tired!"
Dad could barely say anything after her short unexpected speech. He stood still, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water as if he was confused.
Finally, an exasperated sigh escaped him as his forehead twisted in anger. "You don't think I didn't sacrifice anything too? I gave up my entire life for you expectant of a good marriage but all I get is . . . this! Your problem is not that you're tired. You know what your problem is? You're selfish Wura! Too selfish that you ignore everything around you just to focus on yourself."
"When last did you bond with your son? Don't you realize that he's hurting too?" My tears had began to run down like a waterfall at this point. "You never realize because you're extremely selfish and only focused on your dysfunctional self to notice anything! You don't think I'm frustrated? Well, try watching your wife behave like a freaking lunatic and tell me how it feels!"
Dad was breathing hard after he finished talking.
Mum's voice was completely quiet and disoriented as she spoke. "I wish I never met you. I wish we never got married. I wish I never sacrificed everything for you. Now look at me left with nothing, and it's all because of you. I hate you with the last breath in me."
The pain in dad's voice couldn't be heard but I knew he had felt awful. "You need help Wura."
Mum released a deep maniacal laugh that had me cringing with fear. "I don't need help Kelvin, I need a divorce."
This time, dad's words were quiet, thrilling, and almost fearful. "You can't be serious, after fifteen years of getting married?"
"I want to go back to my family Kelvin, ask for forgiveness and pretend none of this ever happened. I want to feel loved again, not with you, but with them. I thought you could give me that, but I was wrong."
"What about Ezekiel? You can't just leave him with a parent!" Dad had caught himself and had began to yell again.
" He's a string kid, I'm sure he'd cope. I just need this, I'm sorry."
A bitter silence followed after that.
Two months later, dad signed the divorce papers and everything was finalized. Mum refused to take custody of myself, but insisted that I should instead stay with dad. She gave me no hug, no kisses, no smile, nothing.
She just packed her bags . . . all of her things alone since she refused to accept anything from dad, even things they bought together.
That was the last time I saw my mum.
Until two years ago when I learnt she had cancer, and was struggling under life support. It was too late, she was in her last stage where chemotherapy couldn't work, and nothing could be done.
That was why she was acting all depressed and dejected three years towards the end of their marriage.
We never knew, we never took notice. She was dying slowly and terribly in front of us, yet we did nothing but stand by.
I was seventeen when I learnt to expect the worst, and I was seventeen years and six months when the doctor told me she only had a few months to live.
I am Eighteen now and nothing has changed. Eighteen years and so close to losing a parent.
"How did it go?" Dad asked as I walked into the house. He was sitting opposite the TV, a laptop on his lap, probably getting some work done.
I exhaled and dropped my bag on the couch. "Still the same, nothing has changed."
Dad slammed his laptop shut and turned his attention to me. "How is she? Any sudden improvement?"
I wish there was.
I shook my head and sighed again. "Still hooked up to a life supporting machine dad, nothing has changed."
There was disappointment in his eyes, though he tried not to show it.
It takes a person who hursts to know who hursts the more.
"It's been two years since she's been hooked up to that death machine. When will something- anything- change?"
I said nothing and instead kept mute. I didn't believe in miracles, because of there was anything called miracle, dad and mum wouldn't be divorced in the first place and mum wouldn't be on her death beg.
But right now? I was hoping miracle existed so I wouldn't have to see mum die.
Even though, at some point, she had to neglect everyone with myself included, I still love her. I didn't understand then, but I do understand now.
She was focusing more time on herself that she was to anyone because she need it the more. She needed that time to step up with her game and fight with her demons alone.
Sadly, that time wasn't enough.
Now, she lost to them. And it's too late to fight back.
I wanted to say so much and at the same time, say nothing.
I wanted to ask Dad how he didn't notice. How he didn't notice his own wife fight for her life at an early stage.
I want to ask why they allowed everything get so complicated.
I wanted to scream and scream till my insides were raw so I have nothing to scream a out.
Instead, I could only mutter four words.
"I pray so dad."