Hey Ojorane,
It’s our birthday today, and again you aren’t here. It’s been fourteen years now? And I still miss you. I’ve always wanted to write to you. In fact, I have written several times, but just never had the balls to complete my note. Guess who’s quarter of a century today. Me! I wish you were here, so I’d rub it in your face that “I be your mama o.” You’d have been that, minus one, today.
You know, Rane, I’m certain if you were still here with us, you’d have been doing very well for yourself. I have a feeling you’d have rounded up your masters degree or be rounding it up by now. You seemed like the kind that wouldn’t settle for just a Bachelor’s degree. If you were here, you’d have been my urgent 2K plug, as per undergraduate and jobless old woman that I am na (I like to assume our bond would have gotten stronger). But you aren’t, and I’m left with no supplier. Sad stuff. I know.
I wish you never left, Rane. Oh, your death hurt me. It broke me. I might have been eleven, but I saw pain and recognized it. I remember how I kept muttering “no” and shaking my head with hopes that my actions would make me wake up from the bad dream where I was informed of your death; except that I wasn’t in a dream. The tears wouldn’t come at first, cos you, my friend, couldn’t be gone. You still had a long way to go. Therefore, news of your death had to be a distasteful prank.
I was in the bath later that day, when it hit me really hard that you truly were gone. I was not to see your shy angelic rabbit-toothed smile again. The realization made me lose balance, and I sank to the tub floor and cried from the core of my heart which left my whole body vibrating like a faulty bike. I don’t know how long I spent in the bathroom but I remember not wanting to ever come out to a world without you and I also didn’t want anyone to see me mourn you. I was defensive, cos them seeing me cry would mean I had accepted defeat. You just had to still be alive somehow. So, no, I refused to cry in public.
I remember being at your house to pay a condolence visit. I honestly didn’t want to be there, cos seeing your parents broken, shattered what was left of my heart to fragments more minute than atoms. I hated that I couldn’t bring you back or take away their pain. I felt guilty for being alive while you, their first child only son, were no more. I mean, we were birthday mates and were in the same age group, why did you have to go? You knew how precious you were, didn’t you?
At every knock your home received, during my condolence visit, my heart jumped into my throat, with anticipation leaving me tense. I hoped for a miracle, Junior. I hoped for news that there was a mixup and that you were only deeply asleep. I kept looking up to see if you’d walk in on us, laugh, and tell us to stop being silly. Call me foolish, but even at your funeral mass, I expected you to bang the casket to be let out. I waited and waited, but your casket was peaceful—no movement, no bang, nothing. I was disappointed. So you really were gone, my dear friend.
You should have seen your funeral (I’m sure you did), it was filled with people. Who would have thought that a child funeral mass would be filled with people to pay their last respect?
Junior, you were loved by both old and young. You were a remarkable 10-year-old. The kindest I knew. I want to say the kindest 10-year-old after me, but who am I kidding?! I was a kind child, but you, my dear, were kinder. You oozed kindness. You treated everyone you met with respect. You saw people, and treated them as humans, irrespective of their position. You were full of empathy. You were always considerate and selfless. You had privilege, and could have acted like a brat, like most privileged kids, but never!
You were wise beyond your age, this quality made you a very good big brother. I loved watching you guide your younger ones and act so responsibly. I was always in awe of how you settled dispute amongst your sisters, without really taking sides. I’d never forget how you’d come to my defense, when any of your sisters tried to be disrespectful (I’m not crying). Rane! You were such a sweetheart and gentleman.
Do you remember those times when auntie Maria, your nanny, would call me your wife and you’d start to smile and blush like an idiot? And I’d be mildly furious and want to slap sense into your head, cos forghursake, I was a year older, and by default thought myself your big sister. I must admit, somewhere behind the hard girl cover, I thought it was cute and sometimes considered it. But God forbid that I, the indaboski bahose, admitted that then. I couldn’t even admit that you were my best friend! If I could go back in time, that’s one thing I’d correct— tell you you are the bestest friend and sweetest boy in my life.
I know I was a pain sometimes, being bossy and acting indifferent towards you, but I really did like you and how you always stood up for me. One thing your loss taught me, is to show a little more emotions and not act like a china doll. Given a second chance, I’d give you your flowers. I’d tell you how your smile lightens a room, and how I wished I wasn’t older…
To think that I got close to your family cos of your baby sister, S, but ended up being best friends with you. I remember falling in love with baby S, who was stinkingly cute, at first sight. The feeling turned out to be mutual (as expected cos babies love me) and that marked the start of my regular visits to your home. I’d be at your house at every chance just to play with her. In the process, you stole me from her. Finding out we were birthday mates made us even bond more. You remember our first birthday together, right? I bet you do. That was my first visit to the amusement park. Your parents made me feel special. You obviously learnt to be kind from them.
After your departure from this imperfect world, my relationship with your family was never to be the same again. I couldn’t bear to face them without feeling guilt. Avoiding them became a task I had to deliver. Despite the distance I kept, I made it an obligation to pray for your family everyday, asking God to give them solace and restore what was lost. My joy knew no bounds when I heard your mom put to bed a baby boy. I screamed. I danced. I cried. I felt a bit relieved. A bit cos I still couldn’t bring you back.
You know, sometimes, I think it was you who came back. And other times, I think he’s just another soul, with hopes that you’re still where souls go after departure from their body and that I’d birth you into your next life ( crazy thoughts, I know. That’s how much I really wanted you back). I don’t think I even visited to congratulate your parents, I didn’t want to jinx the joy or stir unwanted memories. All I do is send word through my mother, and admire them and your siblings from afar, knowing I once had bonded with them. I hope this doesn’t make me a bad friend. I think I just never got over your death and somehow feel responsible (I don’t even know why).
Oh, Rane, your sisters are so grown now. B is doing a great job being a big sister, but I don’t know if sassy O still tries to bully her (that sister of yours was such a mood). Even your baby brother has grown so much. He’s growing into a fine young man.
I wish I had seen you moments before your death, maybe I’d have had something like your action or words to cling to, to help me move on. Maybe I’d have interpreted your usual smile that reached your eyes as a goodbye, or your regular act of kindness as a sign that you knew you were going. Maybe, just maybe I’d have felt a little less guilty. So you see, I can’t even hold on to anything and claim it to be a sign that you knew you were going and hinted at it, cos I didn’t see you, prior to your last moment here.
There’s a whole lot to say to you—like my boy adventure in 2019; my struggles; my wins; and lots more— but I’ll leave that to when you choose to visit me. Lord knows I’ve been expecting a visit from you (except you’ve already found a home here). Asides having gist for you, I have questions and I’ll ask some now.
Did you really like the boiled fish and butter mash sandwich, or you liked it cos I introduced and liked it? And what secret did you share with B that she wouldn’t tell me? I’m dying to know what it is.
Finally, Rane, I hope you’re proud of me, not minding that I like to roam the world naked and that my progress, according to human standards, has been quite slow. The past few days has left me in deep reflections, and in one of those reflections, I realized that my circle of friends is filled with kind people. This realization makes me grin so hard, everytime it crosses my mind. This might be my greatest achievement yet. Funny, enh? I really hope for a world filled with more Ranes, and I’m glad my circle is full of imitations.
Happy posthumous birthday, Ojorane. Cheers to twenty-four… And to twenty-five. Lol!
Love you, always and forever,
“Your wife,”
Sonia.
