Above Water

28. Goodbyes and healing.

Grieving is such a foreign land. One that groops and tests you in ways you have no words for. It is so brave, so shameless, and harbors no compassion. It leaves you for a while and then one fine morning, it knocks on the door and walks in uninvited, colliding and paralyzing you again.

It dawns in that you have not moved on.

Every once in a while, It forces you to feel all jolting emotions at once, like you've lost something or someone all over again.

Death has lost its grandeur and efficacy, now something ordinary to me. I have seen it, it has seen me, eye to eye, then it smiled and took the people closest to me while I claw and beg, seeking mercy but none came.

I am no longer camouflaged by the mockery of permanence. I've been touched by what I label the most painful of it all and it is the only liberation I've gotten to live well because I am so ready to die.

I don't want this feeling, it is not an asset but I also know there is no shame in the pain of it. My eyes are more than open, I finally look at people and see their pain. I feel them.

Mommy is gone.

I can't have her back, I've accepted. I don't want her back, it's an illusion, one I always wake up sweating from.

Nothing I can do about it. I have to move it, carry her with me, it's the only choice and it is a bastard type of pain. But I must continue to grieve. Somehow heal. Process it through fragments and still grow.

I've been in a slumber for an excruciating amount of time but I am awake now. I rise and move my body but I feel nothing more than what my heart feels.

"I am deeply sorry for everything I put you through but I need to do this." My words must be vague and rousing.

Sadiq shifts uncomfortably in his seat, clasping his fingers on the table.

I am going to get help, but before I do, I need to help people around me by addressing them. They deserve closure. Although I doubt this is any of it.

I am seated in a floral dress, across from Sadiq in his usual Kaftan. I called him to a random chop house and reserved the table where I could see most of the people under the light hue of the almost fallen sun. I feel safer seeing everyone and their moves.

"Wha-i don't...I don't get you."

I drag in a breath, "I am leaving and I am probably not coming back." It is a decision I made which Laura hardly agreed to. But first, our primary concern is for me to get help and this environment isn't it. "Accepting, healing is going to take too long, so I understand if you find someone else."

His eyes squint as he digests my words.

"We can do it together," he says, catching my palm and lightly squeezing. "I need to get over my addiction too, I keep going back. We can do this together, Amani." I have tried what he is offering, not literally, but I have weighed it. It won't work.

"No," my soft voice has the opposite effect, he hardens and I mean no harm. I gently wiggle my hands out of his grasp and fist my dress under the table. "This bridge... Each of us has to cross it alone."

Sadiq says nothing but his eyes speak a gazillion words. Of course, he calls into question my words, it must ache where I rub him. All this while, he held hope for us and here I am, crushing them.

No one has been so patient, so willing, so compassionate, and ultimately so loving to me.

It is selfish of me to say but he is not good for me right now. And I am terrible for him.

My sorry attempt at soothing him is to grab his hands which he is quick to snatch away. "Abubakar." I purposely call his name and instantly regret it when his hooded pink and fiery eyes settle into my glossy but soft eyes. "I need you to know that it is not you, it is me. We can always be frien-"

"Hell with that. I will never be your friend." He cuts off and correspondingly cuts into my chest, my heart, my entire being. "Hafiz was so right."

I don't ask what Hafiz was right about, I have an inkling I don't want to know and instead hold his hand once he roughly pushes his chair back to stop him.

"I am sorry." I keep repeating because I have no befitting words for him.

He scoffs and nods, "Yeah. I am sorry that I keep hurting myself too. I wish you the best life has to offer, Amani Saad. I hope you find what you are looking for."

Sadiq walks out of the chop house and my life, leaving me and my tears behind.

His words destroyed me but I will go somewhere where I will learn how to pick myself up, bit by bit.

My shameless cries begin and I rush out of the chophouse, and into the car, canceling my plan to visit Sabrin and my step-siblings. We head home where I make sure I am in the confines of my room before I break down and cry for the rest of the day.

I did not want that to be the last memory of us, it feels like the end of the world but I know it is not.

I went back to square one for days, blanketing myself in the misery of losing someone. The hardest part was that it is not to death and I made the decision to do it. So, why was it ripping me apart?

I eventually pick myself up.

The remaining days I spend in Nigeria as my Visa is being prepared, and my admittance into rehab, I spent the best way I know possible; with family.

Fun after fun, pictures after pictures, memories after memories until it was the day I depart.

My ride to the airport goes eerie silent and I am compelled to recap my life.

I've lived my whole life in the depths of self-hatred, insecurities, dwindled self-esteem, fear of abandonment, failure, loneliness and not knowing what the hell to do. The sad, yet hopeful look on each of my loved one's faces, as I hug them goodbye, is enough to change and kickstart my journey.

My healing journey.

Generations are supposed to get better with time. Curses are meant to be broken, Trauma shunned, and not passed down.

I know how it feels to be stuck in my depths of unworthiness, chaotic mind, self-hatred, and pain but I am beginning to understand that although it will be hard and take time, I can still rise.

I am going to be the first in my lineage to break this chain and I continue to nod at my promise to myself.

I promise to fulfill my promise.

I wipe my tears and look back every second to wave at my family.

As I step on the final stair of the plane, I take a deep breath, turning to rummage my eyes over the country that I promise to visit again. In a year, in two, in a decade, I am uncertain. But I will come back, as I go above half my journey. It's never too late to break those generation curses.

So I will get up and heal.

-The Beginning of healing-