I normally write down stuff and wait for the right season to upload. Or the right feeling. Then I realised that, that is me waiting on GOD. Waiting for God's leading on whether its time for the post to go up or not. I remember a few months ago baby girl was unwell and I pampered her mostly because she had the mumps and couldn't swallow. She was in so much pain. After a while she asked me whether my mummy does all that when I am unwell and I told her no because my mommy is with Jesus. All sorts of questions came trickling in including how she went to be with Jesus. I answered them all effortlessly. I BRANDED myself an expert after that LITTLE conversation and blogged about answering questions about death to children. I thumped my chest and said I am so awesome. I felt like an expert. That post didn't go up. Like all the rest. Then it happened to me, death came knocking and I faced it head on, first hand. I went back to that draft and it was the most RIDICULOUS article. It was simply crazily UNREALISTIC. How? Nothing made sense. At all.
If you are a regular on my blog you have met baby girl. She is five now. The most bubbly girl I have ever seen. She finally picked up French. She bubbles and bubbles. Mostly to her dolls (babies). Like three words then I ask what does that mean? She says something else in French. I guess it means she does not understand what she is saying or maybe telling me to learn it for myself?
Baby girl loved her daddy very much. He was the first to hold her. He named her. He gave her the first kiss. The first bath. The first diaper change. He literally experienced all her firsts. He stayed with us long enough for baby girl to be attached to him. I always figured that.
I love to yell. No I scream when I am mad. Baby daddy was the opposite. He was always calm and spoke calmly even when arguing. He is the calmest man I have ever met. Never changed when he got mad. He listened. He waited for me to calm down, like a gazzilion days later of silence then he would speak. See so if you walked in during our argument you would definitely conclude that I am the crazy one, because I am loud and I can talk endlessly. We continued to fight and forgot that baby girl was growing and slowly she began to read in between the lines and you would see fear. Read fear in her eyes. I knew that was not how I wanted my baby to grow up. In a dis-functional family. Since he made a choice to do whatever he did, I called it quits. Mostly because of the endless lies and because I knew nothing would change.
(Let me paint for you a picture of the three of us before we proceed)
I had a very big problem separating him as a dad and him as a man. He was probably a good friend, a good brother, a good son, a loving father. Well as a man mmmm.....To baby girl he was a fun-loving daddy. Of course she doesn't know yet that fatherhood is not about snacks and outings and photo sessions. She has no idea that fatherhood means responsibility. Providing. Being there when she is unwell. Discipling. Sleepless nights due to fevers. I cut him off when we broke up. Baby girl was so sad. She started to sulk and retrogress. I knew one thing, no matter what he did, no matter who he was, he was still her daddy. I decided to allow them to bond. They would talk on phone for ages. Even when all she said was gagagaga. He would visit and she would sparkle. She dressed up and made her hair. She cleaned up all her babies and put together everything she wanted to show him. We would visit and she would be on top of the world. So given she loved him VERY much.
All our meetings ended up in fights. Especially if one particular topic was raised. Our last meeting was the ugliest. He was so persistent. He didn't want to address the elephant in the room. I went crazy and started the yelling. I forgot baby girl was still in the room. Then she started crying.........
That's the last she saw the three of us together. Me YELLING like a crazy woman.
(Now that you have a picture moving on...)
She was to have her first school Christmas Concert on 15th November. She had prepared for it the whole term. She danced and wiggled and sang (incomprehensible) but they were mostly Christmas carols. I had to sit through extremely looong rehearsals in the house and when she missed a move she would be like no let me start again. And mind you they were like four songs combined. She made one call and told the daddy to come for the big concert. She even planned how they would go for lunch afterwards and then bouncing castle. It was never to be. He was buried on the same day. 15th November.
When he passed away she was doing her exams. Four year olds do exams? And amazingly she scored a clean a 100% in everything for that exam. I decided not to tell her because I thought it would distract her. That is the week she asked about her daddy the most. I guess she sensed it. She insisted on calling her daddy. We took her round in circles. Every knock would be answered with is that my daddy? At some point I wanted to give the phone to one of his brothers who sounds exactly like him to play daddy then my pal said no (bless her soul), how long will you keep up the act?
Friday 7th November. The Day I broke the news to her. Two days after he passed away. We went to a home joint to buy fries. She wondered why she was being treated to fries on a week day. That whole week was a week of wondering. Why mummy wasn't going to work, why people were coming .........I gave her time to eat her fries then I told her. Your daddy is not here anymore. She said okay I know he is in Mombasa. Then I told her no he has gone to be with Jesus. She was pop-eyed. Then all over sudden she was mad. She said 'But you were always shouting at him' 'But you didn't want him to live with us' Mad at me for shouting at him. For not allowing him to stay with us. Mind you she was four. I was lost for words. I wanted to scream. I didn't expect that reaction. For her to remember all the shouting and screaming at that point. Then a cow came. Out of nowhere. She loves cows and all our attention went to the cow. Bless that cow. We talked about her and how fat she was (the cow). She said she was full so we got up and gave the rest of the fries to the cow. Was it really a cow? because it ate the fries. I could see a smile on her, the cow. All the way home she was bubbling about how amazing it would be if we had our own cow. The daddy story was forgotten. Or so I thought.
Everything went back to normal that weekend. Actually everything went back to normal until after his burial. She would ask and I would tell her he is with Jesus. And she would go about her normal business like a boss. I was amazed at how simple it was. I even wrote a praise report. Until one day I noticed she had zoned out. Then she started being clingy. Then she started pooping on herself meaning she was retrogressing and I knew I had a problem. A MAJOR problem. I didn't know where to start. The QUESTIONS started. BIG QUESTIONS. Yet I didn't know how to answer them. All I had written before were pure crap. Ati he is with Jesus? Or sleeping? Or in a better place? No answer was satisfactory! He is sleeping. When is he going to wake up? He is with Jesus. Can we go up and be with him? No don't say that, that is not a good thing. Oo so you mean Jesus is bad. Okay he went up. How did he go up? Can we take a big rope and go up with him? And on and on. Nothing I said was right. She continued to zone out and retrogress. As I continued to say all the wrong things......
How did I handle it? How did WE handle it?
To be continued.....................
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