She was ready to go

By this time three years ago, I still hoped against hope that we would have a Christmas miracle. 

I was in church and I lay down before the Blessed Sacrament at benediction and begged God to save mother from dying. 

As I bowed before the Lord of Lords in tears, I suddenly saw mother and she looked so radiant, she was always radiant but in that vision she glowed and she was no longer fat. She was slimmer and she wore a beautiful gown and she smiled at me.

After the Benediction, I stood up and I was happy again after a long time of being sad over mother’s illness. I was very hopeful as I left the church that morning and I was filled with so much energy. I had about three meetings in different parts of Lagos and I looked forward to all of them; I had an unexplainable fresh lease on life and I felt like a champion.

Just as I was about to leave the house, Victor asked where I was going which was odd because we already discussed my plan for the day. When he said that he would like to take me to all the places I was going to I was convinced that he had gone bunkers. What else could be responsible for the sudden open affection and romantic gesture?

I gave him an “are you for real” look and walked away, I did not notice that he was not smiling. 

When Victor called me back a second time as I tried to leave again, I was so ready to bite on a piece of wood in frustration.

When I walked back into the room, Victor hugged me so tightly but before I could get really pissed at the odd hour show of love, I noticed that he was crying. 

The last thing on my mind was any bad news concerning mother and so I waited for him to tell me why a grown man was crying and then he gave me the worst news I have ever heard till date, “Ezenwanyi a nwu go” (Ezenwanyi is dead) .

I still remember my how and what I felt, I went temporarily blind, deaf and dumb, and I could only hear the ‘wuuuu’ sound. I shut my eyes like that would make me not see reality, a few minutes earlier I had just responded to a friend’s text asking of mother. I told her that mother was getting better. 

I believed that she was getting better because I had a vision of her. She looked beautiful, well and happy; it was so real to me, I was sure that mother would be fine but little did I know that she only came to bid her little girl good bye.

My mind raced to my last moments with her, she had a relapse and the stupid stroke hit her again. I rushed her to the hospital, I drove like a mad woman, I beat the red light, drove on a wrong lane, made a hell of noise honking for other road users to clear the way; the most important person in my life at that moment was fighting for her life and that was all that mattered to me.

Later that night, mother became incoherent, no one could understand the sounds that she made but when she called my name, I knew she called me. She said something that only I could understand and I swiftly went into action while her nurses, the doctors and other people around her tried to understand what she said.

I came back a while later with a priest, only mother and I could understand our language and so when the priest said that she could not receive communion, I spoke to mother in our special language, she understood and said that could receive communion. 

The priest granted my mother her dying wish for her last food on earth to be the Body of her Saviour Jesus Christ. That was mother’s very last real food. Afterwards, every other meal was through a tube.

I was on the phone with Odera when the senseless stroke came in full force, I pitied him; he arrived that morning and had hoped to see mother well again, she had called him some few days back and he was excited to hear her voice; he planned to come and spend time with her, laugh and play with her as usual but he never got that opportunity. He couldn’t bear to see the woman who showed him pure undiluted love every single day of his life in that state.

I had to get off the phone when the seizure wouldn’t stop; I pulled a chair to her side, placed one hand at the back of her head to give her support and held her hand with the other hand. I counted the hours that the seizure ravaged her body; I held on to her tightly and hoped that I could bear some of her pains. I cried as I kept saying to her “Mummy ndo”. It broke my heart to see her own tears fall freely and I knew that she cried because I cried and she did not want me to cry for her.  I called on God, I screamed prayers out to God, Ada was by the corner singing and praying as well. 

Screaming those prayers was all I could do to make God hear me, to hear us and have mercy. It was my toughest night; I had to be on the phone with everyone at different times during the night to give situation reports as every child of mother kept vigil at their different locations. 

Ada (one of mum's  care givers) and I cried, prayed and sang all night but unlike Paul and Silas, the bars of sickness were not broken. 

By morning, Ezioma arrived and before the ambulance arrived to take mother away, Odera, Ezioma and I went to a corner, held hands and prayed once more to God to have mercy.

After mother was admitted in the intensive care unit, we had to go and manage father who wanted to know his wife’s condition. 

The next day Nkiru arrived and we began yet another period of hoping and praying that mother would leave the ICU. Each time someone gave up in the ICU we secretly thanked God that it was someone else and not mother.

Nkiru would go in and sing to her, “Onye ka anyi ga akpo mama? Nne m oh” Nne m ihe di mma ka m ga emere gi, onye oma, onye oma, onye o ga adiri mma onye oma” (who will I call mama? My mother. My mother, I will good things for you, good one, good one, it will be well with you)

Every time she sang that song to mother, we would see tears roll down her cheek.  That was her only way of letting us know that she could hear us.

I should have known, we all should have known because mother was very vocal about it. She always told us that she had asked God to take her home if ever she was so sick that she would have to depend on people to take care of her

She was ready to go but we were not ready to let her go; I had a lot of plans for her but was waiting for the right time which never came. The day she had a relapse, I had sulked to myself because she called me several times in about three minutes, she was restless and I was a bit impatient. I am so sorry mum. I wanted her to rest but she wouldn’t, if only I had an idea that she was battling something, instead of sulking I would have fought the foolish stroke physically.

It is exactly three years today when she said her final good night on the Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception of the Blessed Virgin Mary who she loved and adored so much.

It still hurts, stings and pains so badly. I hate you so much right now you stupid idiotic and senseless stroke and I will never forgive you!