Delight Chilegide Olumati

I was only a little child when I heard my father had died.
As I grew I lived with his grave by my side.
The exact spot he loved to park his car in the yard.

I was told he loved a lot of things, me inclusive.
I was told he enjoyed music and so do I.
I was told we had too many similarities and that made my heart warm.

I grew with this mindset and decided to keep him alive in my heart.
I decided to give him another life.
A life outside his grave,
a life I crave he had to face.

I grew to believe someone can die, and still be alive.

I was little, I really was, I didn’t understand a lot,
but all I was told was enough,
it was okay to make me understand I’d never get to see him,
it was enough to tell me he wouldn’t be by my side as he use to.
I was told he’d forever be gone.

I grew with it, but at some point I doubted.

I could feel his presence in difficulties,
I could feel his hugs when it gets hard,
I could see his smile when I miss him so badly,
I could do things I did with him,
Although it was in my heart, and there alone.

Hey,
I am not a psychopath.

Somehow I no longer believed he was dead,
somehow I staged war with my mind and 50% of the times I failed.
Yet, yet, I wouldn’t accept defeat.

He lives, yes he does.

I miss his flesh, I miss holding hands with him.
I miss him.
I miss having to hear him call me “Mummy.”
I miss sleeping on his chest, and plaiting the hair on it.
I miss him, I miss you Daddy.

©Smiler.