Day 1

I’m usually not the type to soak myself in a bathtub, but today is different and before I rush into my very tempting bathtub, I must first pour out my soul on this paper. The irony about the heat I’m feeling is that the sun has gone down and the moon is in its full glory. So why this itchy feeling coupled with a pounding headache? I’ll tell you why. My younger son just approached me a few minutes ago with the most despicable request ever. It’s bad enough that this son of mine has been a source of grief for me almost from the time he was born.

The celebration of his birth ended within minutes as his mother, my lovely, loving wife passed away. And as he began to grow, it became clear that he needed tough love. So I chose to be tough, not just to him but to my elder son as well, I tried my best to be fair and balanced in the way I raised both of them. But all my effort seemed to harden him even more. His teenage years were spent in reckless living, frolicking with other boys his age that encouraged his reckless behavior.

And now this. It is now clear to me that I am dead to him; this is the worst treatment he has ever given me. He has demanded that I give him his share of my inheritance. The pain that pierced through me made me automatically dumb. Some very strange heat rushed to my head and started spreading to my limbs and the rest of my body. I truly felt (temporarily) paralyzed.

“Dad did you hear me? I want my own share of the inheritance and I want it now!”

His question jolts me back to reality, and in my weakness all I can mutter is we will talk tomorrow. He responds by saying that there’s nothing to talk about, that his mind is already made up.

What did I do to deserve this?

Day 3

Following my decision to oblige my younger son of his request, a buyer came to inspect one third of my estate and land, which is the portion of my younger son’s inheritance, his older brother owns two thirds. This man is the only buyer who has shown interest so far. Everyone else has clearly decided they don’t want to partake in this strange and abominable transaction.

Needles to say, I have become the scorn and ridicule of everyone, friends and family alike. The buyer countered my original price, with a price of his own, clearly way below what the land is originally worth. I felt like arguing but I truly don’t have much energy to argue, I have been humiliated enough. So I simply told him that if I didn’t get a better offer by tomorrow, the land is his. A handshake sealed the deal.

Day 5

Land has been sold and my son Rodi received the proceeds of the sale yesterday. Right now he’s throwing a party with his friends. I’m wondering if I made a mistake in agreeing to his demands. Strangely I do not feel I’ve made a mistake. On the contrary, I feel like, had I not done his bidding, he would not have rested till he had his way or he would have done something treacherous, like burning my entire farmland. Either way, what’s done is done.

Day 6

Now my end is near…where did I go wrong as a father? Rodi moved out of the house…says he’s relocating to a far country up north…he says he’s never coming back.

Surely I must have messed up somehow. Was I too tough on them, particularly Rodi? Did I not show him enough love? Did I go too far in being too strict with him? I know other fathers who were tougher and sterner, never there for their children, especially their sons; letting the mothers carry all the burden, yet their children turned out fine. Or should I have re-married? Would things have turned out differently? Surely there’s no parent living or dead who has gotten it right all the time. So why is my own different?

I’ve received all kinds of visitors today. They want to know if all they’ve heard is true, and if true, why I would allow such nonsense. I also think they came to check if some part of my brain got deformed.

I lay on my bed, eyes tightly shut, forcing the tears not to flow out…bloody waste of time! Flow freely salty tears of mine, for sleep is far from me.

Day 10

Bekor my older son comes to check in on me and expresses mild surprise at my empty plate of food and is even more surprised that I’m dressed and out of bed.

“Dad is everything alright?”

“Yes son, it’s a new day, time to make the best of it”

“Glad to see you back to yourself Dad. No point pinning over an ungrateful and heartless son. I promise you Dad, I’ll do right by you…I’ll never leave you.”

“Thank you son. I love you more than you’ll ever know. Now let’s be off.”

The boyish grin plastered on his face didn’t go without notice. I hope he truly understands that I meant every word I said…only time will tell.

Day 85

For some reason my mind drifted to Rodi today. Matter of fact he has been on my mind since the day he left. But today’s different, today is the day he was born. I wonder what he’s up to…

Day 139

Today I overheard a conversation that made me sad beyond description. I was returning from my transaction for the day with one of the other farmers and decided to take a break under one of the palm trees that littered the footpath. However my moment of solitude was short lived as the sound of laughter drifted my way. I looked towards the direction of the laughter and immediately recognized the people laughing, they were Rodi’s friends.

They seemed to be laughing at a joke. I realised a few seconds later that the joke happened to be my son Rodi. They were talking and laughing about the way he was getting out of control, spending money recklessly and disrupting every party he attended. In summary he had gone into riotous living and they found it amusing. Just the other day Bekor giving me some report he had just gotten from Rodi’s friend, but I shushed him up, not wanting to hear anything.

Now these so called friends of his were laughing at my son’s foolishness. They were so engrossed in their conversation, they didn’t even notice me. Even if they did see me they would not have easily recognized me thanks the straw farm hat that shielded my face. I waited a few more minutes to be sure they were out of sight, and then I headed back home. This is now my life…a life of shame and ridicule.

Day 365

A full year has gone by since Rodi left. Still no word from him, not even his friends. Every now and then I hear rumors about his whereabouts and well being, none of it heartwarming. Maybe I should send some of my men to go search for him and bring me more accurate feedback…at least I’ll know if he’s still alive…no I will do no such thing. Yes I’m unhappy with him and yes I still love him, but this is the path he chose…he left me, I didn’t leave him.

Day 552

It’s a little over eighteen months since my son left me, still no word about him. Every day for the past five months I’ve walked these fields hoping against hope that I’ll see my son coming back home, all to no avail. Still I choose to hope. I turned a corner and kept walking. Normally this was the spot I’d have turned back and headed home but for some reason today I kept walking. I couldn’t explain it but I felt different today, different in a good way. I was still wondering what was responsible for this good sensation flowing through me when I lifted my head and saw a man coming from a far distance.

Instantly I recognized the gait of my son Rodi, it was slightly different, a bit more tired than usual, but still I knew it was him. However I needed to be sure so I studied him a bit longer ad this time I knew for sure it was him, this wasn’t the sun playing tricks with my mind. My son has come back home! Excitement surged through me and I started running towards him. As I ran a part of me felt ridiculous and silly but I kept running towards my son. I knew people were watching and even judging me for running towards a son who had abandoned me but I didn’t care, I ran even harder.

It took him a while to realize I was running towards him, and even when it hit him he stood there frozen, confusion spreading all through his face. As I drew closer I saw shame and remorse written all over him and I knew in my heart he was truly sorry. I embraced him with all my strength and he embraced me in return, tears streaming down his cheeks, telling me how sorry he was for everything. He was telling me how he was unworthy to be called my son. But I cut him short and said to him,

“Son welcome home.”

I knew people would not understand, still I went ahead and threw a party for my son who was once lost but now found, whom I’d thought was even dead but had returned to me alive.

My older son Bekor (who had just returned from the field) refused to join the party. Angry at the fact that I was throwing a party for a useless son who had squandered his inheritance on harlots and wayward living, yet not once had I acknowledged him or even thrown a party for him and his friends. In his eyes there seemed to be no reward for being a good and devoted son. I explained to him my point of view and even told him that all that I had was now his and his alone…reminding him of my love for him. Still he scuffed and walked away.

As I reflect on the words of my older son I realize that he had been lost to me as well and didn’t fully understand the depth of my love for him. But just as I stayed hopeful that my younger would return to me so also I’m hopeful for my older son.

I closed my father’s journal as tears streamed down my face. How could I have allowed all this hatred and anger blind me to his love for me…for us. On the day Rodi’s return was being celebrated I was angry beyond words. Several months ago I’d promised my father I would never leave him the way Rodi left him; but when I walked into the party being held for his return, I took a decision not to walk away physically but to walk away with my heart. I’d become cold and distant towards my father and brother. My father tried several times to reach out to me but I always walked away.

A month later one of the servant rushed to me shouting that my attention was needed back home because my father had slumped. Suddenly all my anger and pain gave way to fear and panic. I ran back home, bursting into his chambers, I saw him lying lifeless on his bed. A loud wail escaped my lips as I slumped on his body begging him to wake up. It took me a while to realize he was still breathing, heavy and slow but still breathing. Hope surged through me once again as I called out to the maid to bring some herbal tea for him. I was determined to stay by his side till he woke up, no matter how long it took. He needed to know how sorry I was.

It was while waiting I discovered several worn out leather scripts stacked on the right side of his bed. I knew what they were, they were his journals. I stared at them, the urge to pick and read was too compelling, but I resisted the temptation because it was rude and disrespectful to read the scripts of an elder without his permission. But after a while I picked a bunch and the first one I read was his account of events that occurred after my brother had asked for his inheritance. Now I find myself sitting by his deathbed, having  read his journals, muttering a prayer for him to open his eyes again. A few minutes passed and my prayers were eventually answered. My father coughed and his eyes opened up slowly. He smiled up at me looking into my eyes.

“Forgive me Father”

He smiled and raised shaky hands towards me, cupping my cheeks between them, and he said,

“Welcome back son, I never stopped loving you…I never stopped loving both of you. All I have is now yours, it had always been so…never doubt my love for you…”

And with those last words, he slipped away to eternity, with a smile still plastered on his face. I held on to his hands holding my cheeks, not wanting to let go. Shortly after Rodi came into Father’s room, apparently he had just been informed. More tears streamed down our eyes as we embraced each other with all the love we could muster.

P.S

Written by Nkoyo Itegboje.

Nkoyo Itegboje is a writer based in Lagos, Nigeria. You can connect with her via her facebook page www.facebook.com/nkoyo.itegboje or send her an email via kitegboje@yahoo.com