Daddy's litte girl (Pre-tale to daddy's gone.)
Every after church at watoto she used to visit a bakery right besides. She forgot it's name; although
she savoured the moments their with her dad more than the moments lived within.
"He used to hold my hand tight and kiss me on the forehead every morning before he'd go off to work." She spoke such fine English.
'what a waste of such portent life,' I thought to myself.
"We'd stay at the bakery, just him and I. Mother hated church. So we'd stay there and he'd tell me stories, all his worries, we we're best friends.
On his days off, we'd visit the park, go for a swim or he'd carry me on his shoulders and into his car where we'd drive off to his office and I'd help him with extra work.
He hated leaving me alone, he hated hanging up the phone when he'd call home."
Not once did she tell stories of her mother, only how much she hated church. Maybe they never got along, maybe her mother had unresolved issues. whatever it was, Esther her daughter got all the love. if I were her I'd be jealous.
"So what happened to daddy?" I asked her.
"Daddy got ill. He tried to hold onto his dear life, but his dear wife made him miserable. She always complained, yet the doctor said high stress levels were not good for him. I never liked her, she's my mother, yes, but she was more like a stranger. She always seemed to have a hidden agenda. Her relatives never came home, they only spoke on the phone. worried more about whether he was dead, than how much longer he actually had to live. I hated them all, I hope God forgives me for my anger."
She shade tears with a little wail, she hated talking about her dad, it always wounded her even more.
Months after he had been diagnosed of thyroid cancer, his state worsened by the minute, it took him four months to collapse down the carved stair case right out of her room. He had just kissed her goodbye, after speed dialling the ambulance to pick him from home. The sad part is, it took him to the hospital mortuary.
Not many days passed before more tragedy befell Esther. She woke up one morning and her mother had run off with everything, everything but her, her sweater, bed, the teddy bear her father had got her on her twelfth birthday (their last birthday), her pj's, and a couple shillings which she used to go to church that day...
Once she got to church, she prayed. Prayed so hard that all she could do was cry. No one understood her, they only wondered where her father was. It had been awhile since they blessed the fellowship with their presence. She never spoke to anyone after her prayer, she just walked out and went to the bakery where she sat by the pillar that was adjacent to it,
Lay her sweater to the floor, sat to the ground and cried, and cried, till she couldn't anymore.
Every after church at watoto she used to visit a bakery right besides. She forgot it's name; although
she savoured the moments their with her dad more than the moments lived within.
"He used to hold my hand tight and kiss me on the forehead every morning before he'd go off to work." She spoke such fine English.
'what a waste of such portent life,' I thought to myself.
"We'd stay at the bakery, just him and I. Mother hated church. So we'd stay there and he'd tell me stories, all his worries, we we're best friends.
On his days off, we'd visit the park, go for a swim or he'd carry me on his shoulders and into his car where we'd drive off to his office and I'd help him with extra work.
He hated leaving me alone, he hated hanging up the phone when he'd call home."
Not once did she tell stories of her mother, only how much she hated church. Maybe they never got along, maybe her mother had unresolved issues. whatever it was, Esther her daughter got all the love. if I were her I'd be jealous.
"So what happened to daddy?" I asked her.
"Daddy got ill. He tried to hold onto his dear life, but his dear wife made him miserable. She always complained, yet the doctor said high stress levels were not good for him. I never liked her, she's my mother, yes, but she was more like a stranger. She always seemed to have a hidden agenda. Her relatives never came home, they only spoke on the phone. worried more about whether he was dead, than how much longer he actually had to live. I hated them all, I hope God forgives me for my anger."
She shade tears with a little wail, she hated talking about her dad, it always wounded her even more.
Months after he had been diagnosed of thyroid cancer, his state worsened by the minute, it took him four months to collapse down the carved stair case right out of her room. He had just kissed her goodbye, after speed dialling the ambulance to pick him from home. The sad part is, it took him to the hospital mortuary.
Not many days passed before more tragedy befell Esther. She woke up one morning and her mother had run off with everything, everything but her, her sweater, bed, the teddy bear her father had got her on her twelfth birthday (their last birthday), her pj's, and a couple shillings which she used to go to church that day...
Once she got to church, she prayed. Prayed so hard that all she could do was cry. No one understood her, they only wondered where her father was. It had been awhile since they blessed the fellowship with their presence. She never spoke to anyone after her prayer, she just walked out and went to the bakery where she sat by the pillar that was adjacent to it,
Lay her sweater to the floor, sat to the ground and cried, and cried, till she couldn't anymore.
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