For Grandpa
How does it feel when the world is slipping away?
How do you know when the end is near?
Do you see lights?
Does the pain disappear?
What do the saints chant when they go marching in?
For so long my grandfather was an idea. I heard him on the phone on random birthdays for sixty seconds or less.
He only became real when he moved in with us (my mother) so he could get better care. Then he became reality. He became stories of when the cities around us were miles of bush, when good governance was thought attainable and when money had real value.
He became a reason to persevere. His voice teasing as he handed me money for school. I was his potential SAN who was going to stand tall in the legal profession like the great H.O DAVIES.
Never mind that I had given up on practising law years before. I’ll collect the money, smile and say a quick prayer under my breath. The prayer is simple, that God keeps Grandpa alive for the day I can give him a framed picture of me in a wig and gown (NLS abeg, even if na pass )
As I struggled through bar finals, I scribbled 28 +12 on my question paper many times. This is the barest minimum. 28 in theory and12 in MCQ make a grand total of 40 so I can pass and make his dream come true. Doubt crept in and my new favourite phrase, if it goes south, is;” delayed not denied, keep the faith”
Grandpa is 90 today and I don’t think he has any expectations. The people that love him are not ready to let him go but I suspect he is ready. The random prayer sessions with Peter his companion have a certain solemnity to them. His coughing has become increasingly frequent, his looks forlorn and his laugh has grown infrequent.
Fact- I would know the answers to these questions if I bridged the 30 seconds between us and went to his room
Truth- I almost never visit except for odd mornings when I wander in to say good morning and today when I will join my mother to sing a tone-deaf rendition of Happy birthday.
A few weeks back, my sister gave us quite a scare by sending a video of some of his children and grandchildren singing around him. She called it his service of songs and warned that he might be leaving soon. I remember leaving my books and heading to the school field with Johnny Cash’s “Unchained”- a song that features proudly on the playlist for when I die ( If you have a similar playlist, please leave song recommendations in the comment section).
I sat down on a tree branch conflicted because I was selfish. I wanted him to stay if there was the slightest chance that I would triumph this path. But I also don’t know the pain of living in a broken body, the struggle to have your mind sharp and your body unable to bear its commands.
I don't know age. It hasn’t found me yet. Yet I fear it. Death is an easier foe to conquer, lacking permanence and leaving no scars except on the ones who claim to love you
I don’t fear death, If anything I fear living an empty life. No passion, no impact to make, no memories to build. Death is not as painful as that.
Today is not about me or what I want, It’s for Pa Joseph Ladokun, my mother’s father from whom I suspect she inherited her irrepressible will and belief in building from any position life has dealt her.
Dear Grandpa;
Go into the light if the light calls you. Or stay if you like. You’ve earned the right to decide and make your own wishes.
Happy birthday
Selah
This post is the first in #Potraits; personal essays on friends and strangers.
