RESOLUTION

“Turn left,” I informed the taxi driver. It took him a second to make out my words before drowning back to the smooth reggae music playing quietly on the radio. Any other day, I could have hummed along. My eyes fell back on the streets that I had walked on almost half of my life. Nothing had changed. The roads were still dusty and the buildings even more rusty and faded.

It was the last day of the year and as everyone was preparing to usher in the new year with new resolutions, I was on the road to fulfil my previous resolution. One thing I had dreaded the entire year.

#1 Reconnect with an old relative.

“We’re here,” the driver cheered, I forced a smile before stepping out into the cold night. I took in a deep breath before walking up to the black church gates. This was where his maid insisted he would be. All the reasons not to do this came flooding in. What if it wasn’t eventful or he didn’t want to see me? What were we going to say to each other after ten long years? 

I miss you, he was the one who left.

Fuck you, I couldn’t say that in church or to him. He was a church minister, for heavens sake. 

“Will you be okay, miss?” the driver called out

“Yes, thank you,” I replied walking in. I should have bailed out when I had he wasn’t at home. It was beautiful inside with flowers and fairy lights everywhere. The choir was singing ‘I surrender' to a sombre congregation. One of the church ushers approached.

“How did you know the deceased?” 

“Um, I came for the new year mass,”

“There is no mass, this is a funeral wake,” That explained the mood and why almost everyone had a hanky to their face.

“Will Joe Mwadime officiate the funeral?” he looked at me sadly. When he spoke, his voice was strained.

“It’s Joe’s funeral,” I followed his gaze to a casket in front of the church. I almost choked on my breath. My legs buckled and I almost fell had I not held onto the usher.

“Did you know him?” he asked sitting us both on a nearby pew

“He was my father,” I whispered. He looked at me in disbelief. The eulogy must acknowledge the one daughter he had with his second wife. How little they knew.

At the age of 13, he left us for a richer, older woman. Mother was heartbroken, Sofia was angry and I was hurt. How could he leave us like that? So easily like we didn’t matter. The first few weeks, I sat by the gate waiting and hoping that he’d come back bearing gifts and apologies but he never came. No phone calls or messages.

Ten years later, I had hoped to confront him but there he was lying in a casket with people sharing a memory or two about him while I had nothing just blurry glimpse of childhood. The picture that laid on his casket was a n older version of the man I remembered. Ashy hair, wrinkled face and a wide smile. Was he that happy without us?

“How did he die?”

“Cancer, stage IV. He was diagnosed four years ago. The church was devastated by the news and we tried everything to save him. Contributions, late night prayers but nothing worked at the end,”

“He was such a nice man,” someone said. Was he? I didn’t know. Should I be angry, sad or happy that karma was that bitch?

The usher, Matt, showed me his family. They sat in front of the church. His old wife was stoic like a statue. Too much plastic surgery did that to people. She held on to a little girl who had her face buried on her lap, crying noisily and her body racking with sobs. Watching them made me wonder what he saw in them, the girl I could understand but the woman. Why did he choose her over us?

 “Anyone else who has anything to say about Joe?” the priest asked and my hands shot up. Whispers rose from the rest of the congregation as I staggered in front. Every pew had a poster of him.

“Who is she?” Someone asked 

“I am Joe’s daughter,” Everyone gasped. The old wife remained stoic eyeing me with a cold glare.

“Actually he has two,” More gasps erupted. I didn’t know what to say next. Rest in pieces? Hell, I didn’t even know what I was feeling. Just emotions swirling through me.

“I had come to meet him but I guess I was late. He was_” I started but Joe’s second wife cut me off.

“Shut up,” The woman snarled pulling out further away from the attentive crowd. 

“Why? Are you afraid I might spill the wrong beans about your husband?” I broke away from her grip.

“You have no right to be here or speak about him. He was my husband,” My blood burned with decade old rage I had for this woman.

“Husband? The one you took from your best friend?” She looked away. 

“Did your mother send you, Jane?” Neither Mother or Sofia knew I was here. They couldn’t have been pleased any way.

“He’s my father,” I countered back, fists clenched. She better be careful, one wrong word and I was throwing a punch against her plastic face

“He was so right you,” I faltered. He spoke about me?

“What did he say?” I asked desperately

“Nothing because that what you were to him,” A tear fell unchecked. 

“Lies,” 

“He never came back, did he? Take some advice, leave and never come back. Next time I see you am calling the cops,” And with that she walked away. 

I sat by the stairs with my eyes dripping in tears. Brick by brick, the walls that held me up, crumpled down. Sobs racked my body and soon I was trembling with the pain of everything overwhelming me. Why did it hurt so much? He was the one who left, this should be his pain but then he had to died.

The clock hit midnight and fireworks exploded through the dark night, fiery sparks one with the stars. This wasn’t how I envisioned my new year. The weight and questions I carried with me for almost a decade was still there and even greater.

So much for new year resolutions.