A love letter to my first love: R.I.P my true love

It was on a Friday morning , at 6:00 am in nigeria when someone came banging my door. I rushed to know who would be so cruel to wake me up at that hour. I looked up to see and it was my caretaker, he needed money to pump water so out of anger I slammed the door and went back to sleep.My sister was calling me at that hour, reluctant to pick the call I did anyways.

Her voice was shaky, "I don't know how to tell you this" she said. I told her to speak up that I was sleepy, I was scared but I do not show weakness to people especially my siblings.

"Daddy is dead", she broke the news. My heart felt like it was in my mouth and I was devastated. I couldn't cry or yell or express how I was feeling, let us say I was shocked.W

e spoke the day before which was Thursday, he did complain of a simple cough. I was trying to find answers in my head. What really happened?

At 5:00am on Friday 12th of February 2021, my dad woke up, he said that he was hungry. He told my kid brother to get him something but there was no food in the house and he eventually had soup. My dad did a little chit chat with my mom, they were preparing for an uncle's burial. When my dad suddenly coughed blood. The blood got thicker, he ran out to pour out the clot. He sat down on the tile to rest little, did he know it was his last breathe. This is how the story was told to me.

I am like my dads favorite child, I really wanted to know why he liked his second child too much because he was a harsh man, he likes the truth more than anybody and trust me he beats down every argument because he is knowledgeable. He simply saw himself as a girl, which is I.

It took me time to adjust, I haven't tho. I miss him, I would always mimic the thing he does. His death didnt pain me as much as his living did. He lived for other people. He had contacts, one call to the presidential house he could pull that off but he never wore good clothes until his death. I feel responsible for all of it. I could have known better. I didnt cry until the burial day because I did feel he was going to wakeup. He didnt( broken heart).

I saw my mom cry for the first time, she's just as strong as I am but that day she cried till the burial was over. I do not want to talk about the horrors of my uncles and aunt, his siblings. For a short period of 8months, I kept dreaming of his return, to how everyday would have been with him if he were still here. He died 8 days to my 20th birthday, when I was beginning to accept his my favorite person in the world. The only person that would love me unconditionally, the only person that would gossip about me and say good things. We had our bad moments, I remember him disowning me because my senior brother quit school, how hilarious!

I still wish he would come back to live for himself, to be happy; was the only thing I prayed for in 2021. To take him out of his misery, to worry less about us.

As a girl and a bread winner, trying to survive , to feed is a struggle.

I came to the conclusion that he left willingly as his a spiritual man , dont want to bore with details. He doesn't joke with his God. I really bragged about his agile personality and am proud of the man he was regardless of his brutality.

• I appreciate every dad, man, husband, brother grinding for a better world for their family. I really want living longer to be a wish we get to make latter in the future. I want it to be our choice to leave earth and it not been stripped from us. I thank @read.cash for this opportunity.