BESTIE

Dear Readalot,

I've had people send me letters of utter displeasure at my long silence. Some of you have threatened to kidnap my brother and sell him to the highest bidder. Please, go ahead.

On a serious note though, please come and carry him.

I had been wondering what would be a good way to end this long hiatus. Then my mother happened.

Hoodies and Cookies

Dear Readalot,

Thank you for crying with me. All is well. Now, I'd like to make you smile with me again. Or at least, try.

***

I have been wondering if there are sins that God generally considers harmless. I mean the kind of stuff he would put in the not-really-a-sin department. You remember how Robin Hood would steal from rich people and give to the poor people? Nothing so dramatic.

I love you, Daddy...

Dear Readalot,

I have been putting off writing for quite a bit now. For the life of me, I had no idea that it would be the passing of my father that would bring me here. I should probably apologize in advance, because I doubt I have anything funny to say tonight.

Last night, I heard my mum scream. I love my mother to bits and I worry about her more than she worries about herself. So, I ran into her room to find out what could have happened.

She was on the phone. From her tone and gestures, I knew something bad had happened. However, I thought this bad thing had happened to someone else. I waited for her to be done with her call. Before I could ask what happened, she said; "Your daddy is dead."

I can't exactly recall the first few emotions that I felt. I only know that the earth seemed to spin a little.

My parents separated when I was nine years old. I stayed with my mum. For more than half my life, I wasn't really close to my dad. Life, in it's uncanny manner, made us drift apart.

When I was a kid, my dad spoilt us kids rotten. There was almost nothing he wouldn't do for his kids. He was a workaholic. Sadly, this was one of the things that did damage to my parents' marriage. But, undeniably, irrevocably, my father loved his children.

My father was not perfect. No one is, really.

But I didn't care. I don't care. Life throws so much bullshit at us. Sometimes, we catch it and throw it right back. Other times, it hits us and throws us down and bruises us. It bruised my daddy. It hurts me so much that it did.

I'm probably babbling a lot. What I'm trying to say is that I loved my daddy. Very much. I'm sorry for all the times I could have been a better daughter and I wasn't. I'm just trying to make sure it's recorded somewhere. Here. That I love my daddy. And I know that he loved and loves me too.

            1948 -2014

Charles Oladele Ogunleye, you're in my heart….now…always. 

Yours truly, Simi.

PS: I found my brother's article this morning. 

http://rainbowspotholes.wordpress.com/2014/03/09/the-night-my-father-died/