Loud Secret

The Usual

My father was always an angry man- a
bitter, angry man. I don’t know what killed my mom but I’m sure she died because she couldn’t handle my dad’s personality anymore. He wasn’t always like this though. After mom died it’s like the whole world was against him and that made him mad. Mom. I wish you were alive and around. Daddy didn’t use to be like this when you were here. But this thought was useless now as I knew my wish would never come true, even if I made it upon a shooting star.

I remember daddy laughing a lot when mom was around. We used to go for a picnic every Saturday afternoon at the community park with all the sunshine and the feel of freshly mowed grass underneath your feet. It almost became the family tradition. It was nice spending some quality time with your family and seeing other families in the community having fun too.

On Sunday afternoons, we would go for window shopping in town and dad would laugh at how much time mom would spend looking at dresses and jewelry, making a list of those to buy when she comes for shopping next time. But all that shine and happiness has left his eyes now. If there’s one thing I’m certain of, it is that my dad was happy when my mother was still alive. He had his life, values and work all under control, like on a balanced scale and when she left, it broke him and everything else he held dear down. So much so that he had to resort to alcohol to take away the pain, although I doubt that it ever worked.

It’s true that he would get angry sometimes after an argument with my mom, as every couple do, but it always died down even on the worst occasions, it always died down but nothing can be compared to his constant mood after mom passed. They’ve been so many times I had wanted to approach my father and ask why he was constantly mad at one thing or the other. I thought to myself that maybe his anger management issues could be justified by whatever reason he may have had, but how do you ask an angry man why he’s angry without him getting angry with you.

So, I just let it be. I let him know I’m there for him and respect him as my father-the man who brought me into this world. Occasionally, when he’s sober, he would sit on the porch of our house, in the rocking chair mom got for his 35th birthday, with a handful of mom’s pictures and he would look at them, smiling to himself and habitually wiping a tear from the corner of his eye which threatened to fall. It was only when the sun was way beyond the horizon that he would pack the pictures back into a small brown box he kept them and head inside. But that was my dad- reserved, hard to approach, troubled and definitely always mad.

Although I was only six when mom passed, I have always known and still know that dad misses her. And that is just how my life has been, just my dad and I. It’s hard most of the time and God only knows how long I can keep up with this personality of my dad’s before I do or say something, I never thought I was capable of. After all, it feels like I don’t even know the man I’ve been living with for the past decade.

There was a sudden noise around me and a tap on my shoulder jolted me out of my thoughts. Annoyed by the unpleasant intrusion, I turned to face the person sitting behind me in class, Lisa, who covered her mouth with her right hand in attempt to control her laughter. Once she saw the confusion on my face, she pointed in front of me and made a face that said "there’s your answer".

“Michael Owusu!!!” I turned to see my class teacher Ms. Hilda calling out my name through clenched teeth. She looked like she had been doing that for a while to no avail. Her loud voice felt like pins on by buttocks because it made me spring up to my feet, now conscious of my surroundings. I was in class and as usual, daydreaming again. Surprise was written all over my face as I turned to look at my friends all pointing and laughing at me- except my best friend Adam, who usually looked at me with pity, wishing there was something more he could do to help his friend, to save him from this embarrassment, than just excluding himself from the mockery. Ms. Hilda’s next question brought me back to reality.