When I’m gone, here’s what I’d like you to remember.
If you are in my first family, remember how I loved to sing,
draw and paint, how I loved vegetables and could never get enough of Moi-Moi,
Akara with bread and beans porridge with yellow corn.
If you are Jonathan, remember how that day long ago (you
must have been about two years old) as I came back from a holiday that was
supposed to heal me of my bed-wetting embarrassment, you ran to me and I lifted
you into my arms and you held on so tightly that I could feel your little two
year old self telling me in that tight cuddle, how much you had missed me while
I was away.
See? I never forgot that day. It made that much impact on me
and my love for you never waned...
If you are Benjamin, remember how we used to fight when we
were younger, and how I used to threaten to beat you up one day to show you how
much the seven year gap between us ought to mean to you? And how the day you
got me so livid that I slapped you I ended up crying along with you after the
sight of you in shock at that slap and the way your face reddened and crumbled
into tears broke my heart?
See I managed to keep my promise to never beat you again didn’t
I? Even though we still kept on squabbling as often as we could, you were to me
the little baby Brother I tied to my back and waddled about with as I did my
chores.
You were the little
toddler who dunked my precious baptism photos in a pail of water because you
wanted to “wash” them. You were the baby that came almost a decade after me to dash
my bliss at being the last born to pieces. I loved you…
If you are Baba, or Mama, You shouldn’t read this, it’s not
for you. I Faith you will not have to bury me. Parents should never have to bury
their children.
If you are Joshua, I wondered how we managed to drift apart.
We used to fight too, and you beat me up good, but we always patched it up.
Why did growing up mean we had to forget how to just love
each other? I remember once, a very long time ago, (I must have been four years
old to your 8) when Mama and I came back from a trip to Lagos. I was sleeping
off my road weariness when you came back from school. I opened my eyes and
there you were by the bed waiting for me to wake up. You had wrapped my feet in
Brown Sellotape.
You must have wanted to make sure I didn’t disappear again
before you’d had time to welcome me from the last trip.
I remember you gave me one of your treasured Marbles as a
welcome back gift. That marble ended up in Mamas grinding machine. I never told
you that story did I? I was playing with it while Mama was grinding pepper for
a customer when suddenly, the Marble popped out of my hands and into the
machine while mama was turned to fetch more pepper.
I quickly dipped my
hand in the machine hoping to retrieve it before she noticed. She noticed after
all, my shriek as the grinder grabbed my right ring finger gave the plot away. You
gave me your share of chicken at meal time that day; remember the miracle of
how I stopped crying for long enough to finish eating the chicken..?
If you are Brother Gbenga, Dude, I never understood you, not
while we were children, and certainly not as we grew older. You were always
beating me up. It’s hard to forget that phase. You didn’t need to beat me so
much. You are the reason I had to have stitches on my head. You were always
fighting someone or beating me. Kiliode?
Remember the fight
with Sister Foluke? The one I got in the middle of trying to separate? Well truth
is, when I got between both of you, I didn’t expect to break up the fight by
ending up on the floor with my head split open and bleeding.
You shoved me with such force and lack of concern Brov; and
the beating you got after Baba brought me home from hospital with a shaved head
and plaster sitting smack in the middle of said head was sadly not enough to
sober you up effectively.
You need God. I swear you do…
If you are Sister Foluke, Know that I’m smiling as I write
this.
I have too many beautiful memories of us to fit in any book.
How you used to plait my hair, how we used to bathe together long ago when I
was a Toddler, how I once wondered why I didn’t have the two rosy swellings on
your chest on my chest too. They looked nice and I wanted them. But I was too
scared to ask.
I remember how we used to make rubber ball from bunched up
rubber bags. We’d bunch them up; around any sticks we could find and melt them
over an open fire. Well at least that what you and the others used to do, I was
condemned to just watching. I was the ‘baby’.
Then there’s that day I tried to make one of my own. Your back
was bent as you melted your wad and so I found a broom and formed a wad behind
you. The wad melted, the broom burnt. The wad fell off the broom as I lifted it
out of the fire. The molted blob landed on your back.
I did not forget where that mark on your back came from…
If you are Sister Ranti, I have let the past go. You traumatized
much more than Brother Gbenga did. It was hard to get over the memory of you
calling me a fat Pig, and how I started binge eating after that and had to
fight a battle with threatening anorexia for years after that, but I let the
past go.
Find peace, be well…
If you are a known or unknown Friend who stumbled upon me
along the way, and liked how much I enjoyed life and my work, THANK YOU.
Know that I got better because thoughts of disappointing you
kept me going and striving to render better service every time.
If you are a Mentor, You taught me well and I thank you…
Remember that I loved a good laugh, I loved children, and I was
grateful for the gift of each new day.
My life wasn’t perfect, but I loved it, and I was mostly happy.
The sad moments did come, but you know I never let them keep me down for long.
I enjoyed being happy, so I strived to keep things that way for as long as I
could.
Now go and life your lives in gratitude, hope it lasts years
longer than mine did.
Cheers to Life, Love, and a lot of laughing…
Lydia pHisayo Olanrewaju 05 06 2013
