I remember being younger and hearing about people passing away, thinking how grateful I was not to have lost someone close to me. But on January 11th, 2010, my father, Fidele Nguembou, passed away. I was nine years old. Ever since his death, everything changed. My heart was broken because a part of me died as well. I knew he would not come back. I was devastated and shocked, " What was the meaning of life"?
Before he died, Mom and Dad flew to Brazzaville for six months so that Dad could get treated. Dad had been diagnosed with diabetes, which slowly caused a lot of suffering in his body. We then stayed at our aunt's house during that period and would always talk on the phone every day. One night was inexplicable, as if something would have happened. My heart was not at peace. We were not able to communicate with our father that night. I was so scared to lose my father.
The same night before, we went to bed. My aunt's phone rang, and she hurried outside to answer it. Her face looked so distressed while talking on the phone. I followed her outside, and she changed her voice to mumbling. She kept walking discreetly away from me as I walked by next to her. Was that dad on the phone? I asked while she was putting her phone away. Then she stood there with a skeptical look, trying to stare away.
"Yes, But he's not in a stable condition right now," my aunt pitifully responded. At that moment, my heart kept beating faster and faster, as if I were under the sea. Being so young, I just kept praying to God to keep him alive.
It was abnormal because we also went to bed early that night. The door was slightly opened, so a little bit of light came into the room. The windows were closed, and there was no sound outside. Everything was so quiet. My little brother and I both slept in the same bed. But that night, we both could not sleep at all. My brother and I kept twisting and turning on the bed. Every time we woke up, I sat up and realized that my aunt was not asleep. My aunt wore blue pajamas as she sat quietly on the brown couch inside the room. She had box braids on her head, done with synthetic hair additions. The hairstyle was more squared-shaped, parting from every braid. Her face was swollen, and her eyes were so heavy and red.
"Why are you crying?" I yelled.
My aunt looked at me so beat up and responded," Go back to sleep. There's nothing wrong." She added, "Everything is all right as I lay back down. We are going to go to Brazzaville for a party."
" A party," I asked shockingly.
At that point, I started sobbing, too; I could not describe my feelings. It felt as if they were shut down. I plunked myself down with a mix of wonder, astonishment, and fear to tell me "what if it was not true". Is it a party? All sorts of emotions ran through my head. Tears of sorrow fell down my face. But I missed him already; he had been gone for a few months. I missed his tight hugs, his big hands that would grab me by telling me he loved me. He was such a big-hearted person; he loved everybody and trusted many people. My father had a huge personality and was so passionate about everything, from Pointe-Noire to Brazzaville, that Wednesday afternoon and arrived the same night. Then we stayed at some family member's house for a few days. During that time, I asked about a million questions but never got any answers. Friday morning, we drove to church with my aunts. When we arrived, the Pastor was waiting for us outside. I felt so confused because it was not on a Sunday. I believed there was not anybody there because it seemed so quiet. As we entered the church quietly, the church bells were hung peacefully between the steeples of the building. My brother and I still never understood why we stopped at the church.
I asked myself, " Shouldn't we be at home with mom and dad already? "?.
" We will talk with the pastor for the party on Monday." Answered my aunt as we silently made our entrance inside of the church.
"Are those the last two kids "? Said the Pastor.
"Yes, but there are two more kids in France, too," Answered my aunt.
" It is normal; they are still going to cry," replied the Pastor. My brother sat next to me as we listened to their conversations, though we never understood anything.
After church, we drove to the place where my mom was at. During the route, I had a gut feeling that we were too late. But despite all that, there was still a voice of disbelief inside me. When we arrived, I went inside and saw everybody seated on the floor. I saw my mom and many of my relatives. My head started hurting, and I tried to calm myself down. I went and saluted the whole family but did not see my father.
" Can I see Dad? Where is my father?" There was a moment of silence. I immediately started shaking, wet tears falling down my face. I just had to catch my breath for a moment.
" Dad went to heaven," replied my aunt.
Then she hugged me so tight that my heart was shattered. I let out a scream and sobbed uncontrollably. I was heartbroken. That was one of the most hurtful news I had ever received.
Looking back now, the whole point of my family keeping the news of my father passing as a secret, helped my brother and I. Back then, I never understood why they had lied to us. But as the days passed after his death. I realized that there was love. We adored him a lot, and he loved us too. What if they had told us earlier? Maybe something would have happened since there was love in our relationship with our father. The aunts hid the news because it would have significantly affected us. I feel blessed to have been raised by a wonderful man like my father. Grief never goes away; I learned I must live with it.
