It was 18 October 2007, when i was only 07 years old, my Father passed away. I still remember the night when i waited for my dad to come back from the hospital, it was late in the night and i eagerly waited for my father to be back home and i asked my mother “When is dad going to get back?” and she said, “in a while or it might be late, you better go to sleep”, and i did. People say tomorrow will be a better day but that day was nothing more than a disaster to me. I slept in the second floor of my house and when i woke up in the morning, i heard people crying and i came downstairs and saw my father for a very last time covered in a white shroud with a benditch tied from his chin up to the his head. I broke apart that day, i fell in the quagmire of responsibilities, my other half of the body was paralyzed. My mind went blank. My dreams were broken. I didn’t even have the nerve to see him to the fullest. I was only seven years old, i may not have been able to realise the love he...
An enthusiast Writer & Bibliophile, who writes his heart out.