“He was trying, you know”
My mother said, walking into my room, silently.
“I don’t care” I said.
“Ma, I waited for countless birthdays
I waited for endless conversation.
I waited for him, all the three time I decided to marry someone else.
I hoped for him.
I dreamt of him, walking into my life as quickly as he left.
I am 40 now,
I was 17 when he left.
I cannot forgive him.
Not now. Not ever.”
” But tell me, my love will your heart ever forgive him?” she asked.
“No, it won’t. He was my first but I do not expect him to be my last, not anymore.”
” Should I call Shania Aunty and tell her you wont be attending the funeral then?”
Eyes dry. Mouth open. Breathing slowly.