Today at 0600hrs I was listening to the ocean. Then I saw your face in the sand. But then when I tried to pick it up, the water trickled down my palms and it vanished down.
It took me back to when I was thirteen, when both you and mother woke me up. Telling me how much you loved me and how much you both knew I studied for the exam. In that moment of your prayers and both of you giving me that success card, I saw a piece of heaven waiting impatiently for me. Truth is, I was afraid. Afraid of letting you guys down. I wanted to run far away. Those days the flat earth theory was more of a joke before peeps took it seriously. Nobody knows. But I know I made you guys proud.
I was riding just the other day when the rain fell on me. I felt alive. I couldn’t complain. With the traffic jam at Nyali Bridge I let it pour down on me. I wanted to get home and see you. Ask how the day was. But for the past five years I had to make peace that you weren’t home. You weren’t there to welcome me.
I skidded off a bit. Nothing much, just the bloody wet tarmac. With every pitter patter of the rain on my nose bridge as my helmet visor was broken, I felt alive in ways I could not imagine.
See pops, it’s your birthday month. I’m not sure if I’d write a tribute. I have been caught up in trying to make out of this thing called life. I didn’t write anything. It’s been five years since you decided to clock out on this world. I’m not sure if I can take anymore days of just ignoring the fact that I miss you.
Last week I painted a picture. It was a painting of you. And for a moment with the three bottles of whiskey lying across, I thought you were here. But again it was never true. And deep down with all the open roads I have been lying to myself. Lying in secret to myself as this month approached.
I have been putting sorrow successfully in the farthest corner of my mind. Truth is I just want you home. But I’d know I’d see your resting place whenever I get home. It’s our sole resting place. There’s no way that we’d beat that.
There’s this ride we’d do to commemorate you. I don’t want to run off the world. But I want to bring every piece of us. Family together. Your brothers, sisters, nephews, nieces, wife, son. All of us would be home together. And there wouldn’t be any sadness. But just good vibes. Knowing that you’d have given us a good soft pad to fall. Knowing that they’d be no running. There’d be no other place to go, but home. And all of us would be home. Home where we all belong. I’ll get that custom helmet. It’d look cool don’t you think pops?
Happy 58th Manman in advance.