When I tear, its not patched, its not stiched....Its broken...Looking for a way to fly, back into the sky, soaring high again, where I belong.

Sunday, December 19, 2010


This was the day I lost my dad. He was 52.

Its almost a month now.He had a heart attack. He had just recovered from stroke. I came home for the sallah break and spent a week. A day or so after I came home, I and my dad drove from ikeja to surulere 4 service. I was really impressed cus the stroke affected his left hand and his recovery was so beautiful. On our way back, just before the stadium, he started complaining of severe chest pains. I was feeding him lucozade while he was driving, encouraging him to just get us home so he can rest. At a point, d pain was so intense that I offered to drive with his instructions despite d fact that I have never driven a car.

We made it home and the pain continued, he said it wasn't his heart but his chest so I attributed it to his physiotherapy exercises. My mum gave him aspirin and other pain relievers, after a few minutes the pain was relieved. This haooened three more times in thay week and d same medication was given. I fell very ill, went the hospital with him, so he used that opportunity to do a chest xray and was referred to a cardiologist with an appontment fixed for d following day. I had injections too, so on friday morning we agreed to go together so I won't waste money on cab. He came late in the afternoon, past his appointment time of 1200pm. My mum begged him to go but he refused saying he didn't feel strong enough and that the cardiologist must have gone.

On reaching d hospital, we met d cardiologist waiting and scheduled another appointment for monday. I was to return to school on sunday morning. By 5am, he woke us up complaining of chest pain, that the pain woke him up. As usual, we gave him d normal pain meds. I kept asking him he was feelin better and he said d pain wasn't sub siding. I was slightly irritated that he woke me that early when he knows its just d pain meds and he'll be alright. I was drifting in and out of sleep. He started shouting that he doesn't want to die, this got me really angry because I was just like this is the normal chest pain, just calm down and let the medicine work. He then told me and my mum to pray for him, that our prayers always help. - laid my hand on his chest, then my mum followed. I prayed for God to relieve him of d pain,I guuess he did.

Immediately my mum said 'amen', his eyes rolled back and he started stiffening his hands. We convinced ourselves that it was a coma because I swear! I could still feel a heartbeat. It took some 15mins before neighbours came to carry him to d clinic in the estate. My dad was quite tall and huge so it was hard for them. They pronounced him dead at d clinic, since it was just a clinic we wanted a second opinion from a better clinic. The ambulance from our hospital in ikoyi came shortly after we took him to d clinic. On getting to Ikoyi, we were told d same thing. Reality hit me and my legs couldn't hold me up, I just couldn't believe it.It wasn't his chest afterall. This is sum1 that lay at my feet the day before while I was typing a letter for him,we shared my food, we gossiped about my mum and made plans. Sometimes I pray I wake up from a bad dream, but this dream is way too long.

I have been through different emotions and reasoning. In all I have learnt to Thank God even when I don't know what I'm thanking him for. It was a week to exams, so I just had to put myself together and write my exams. Sometimes I get so overwhelmed that I scream without a sound. My only hope is that the dead in christ shall rise on the last day......