She & Her

Chapter one: How It All Happened.

"Hope for the best but expect the worst," I most resonate with this quote. I live and breathe by it, till I die.

''''''

When we got the call, I wasn't surprised, I was only glad I wasn't in there with her. To say the least, I've been secretly waiting for the day her temper would take over. It didn't take too long, just a decade and one year. Since I was 5.

Now she knows she is at fault for her own mistakes, no one to blame this time but herself.

''''''

"Dad! What happened?" I asked in a hoarse voice as I rushed over to him when he dropped his phone and almost fell to the ground. I could tell he was in no mood for question and answer but I decided to try my luck, of course, it was to no avail.

So I picked the phone up and placed it in my ear to find out if I could recognize this bearer of bad news.

It was purely mechanic and held no emotion, you'd know this person was used to it. It was something they did almost every day.

"Hello, are you still there? Do I have to come again?" She said hurriedly because she probably had better things to be doing.

"Yes, please," I replied in a tone just as icy as hers.

"I'm sorry to inform you, but an accident just took place three blocks away from St. Michael's hospital and Mrs. Owolabi has been placed under intensive care in an emergency room," She said in a breath.

And with that, I hung up the phone, got the keys to the house and car, rallied my brothers and my father to the car, and drove off to the hospital immediately, cause something told me these were going to be her last days.

''''''

Dad had been in the room for almost twenty minutes now, but we decided that my brothers and I would stay back since this was only her first day in the hospital and they needed to dress her better. I agreed to that plan, I don't think I'd ever let my brothers get burdened with the nightmares and trauma that come with these things.

The next few days came by swiftly and daddy urged me the most to say my final goodbye. What was I supposed to say though? "I'm sorry, hoped things could've turned out better"?

I know it hurts him that there was no and will never be a mother-daughter relationship. I also know it pains him more that I do not want to see my own mother on her deathbed and make good final memories.

Kaleb- who is ten, just cried and hugged her for as long as he could. Lase- who's three, threw tantrums very often because even with his age he could sense the negative emotions in the room, and without a mum to comfort him they got worse over time.

''''''
The days and months that came after the incident were staid and anyone who entered our "home" would know we were grieving.

A few times, some relatives came if they could, bade their condolences, and left within a twenty to thirty-minute span.

Friends would reach out, through the phone to see if we were doing fine. None of them actually came over.

Even our pastor felt the need to inform us, once again, that we were always welcomed to church, that is, during the opening hours, and offered to counsel if needed.

It felt all too automated, pre-performed even, like everyone already knew what they were supposed to do, except me. I didn't know what to feel, or rather, what I shouldn't be feeling.

It was becoming too much. We had to leave. We needed to live again.

But then, we came back. After a year.

~Sequoia, the first of two.