Heartstrings

Dearest Tolu,

Last month, you left home. Our home. As much as I try to say that it’s alright, I will always fail. I am desperately trying my best to understand why you would leave the love, warmth and security that is home for the grimy uncertainty of a war zone. It’s your sense of duty, I suppose. I dare say it’s one of the many many reasons why I fell as hard as I did for you. You stood out to me, partly because you’re such a fine specimen of masculinity, and also partly because you always wanted to help. As soon as you heard about the war, you were itching to know what you could do. My darling Tolu. In your itching to help and be involved, be safe. For me and for our Neesha. Every time I write these letters to you, she kicks like she’d rather be in your arms than in my belly. Of a truth, I’d rather be in your arms than here too. I suppose she takes after me like that. I love you, and I miss you.

All my love,

Your Boluwatiwi.

Dearest Tiwi,

I may not quite know how much you missed me, but I can assure you that much more than you miss me, I desperately want to return home. I want to hold you, to see you, to inhale the beautiful scent of your hair, to hear you sigh and see you smile. More than almost anything, I want to be with you. But we both know I have to be here. My drafting ends by next month and after that, I’ll be on the next flight to you and our daughter. This war has taken so many lives and in a sense, it has taken mine too. How could it prevent me from seeing you grow even more radiant with each stage of pregnancy, from feeling Neesha tumble and roll, from massaging your feet after long days, from helping you pick your socks from the bottom drawer and buying your favorite asun at 3pm?. You warned me about all these things and now, I’m not even there to see it. Know this. The thought of you brightens my increasingly drab days and I’m counting the seconds till I come back to you.

With everything that I am and have,

Your Toluwaseyori

Dear Tolu,

Each day deepens the pangs that reminds me that you're not here with me. I turn to hold you and you're not there. I catch myself speaking to you before I remember that you're all the way over there. I start to get your Ankara ready for church then I realize that you're not here to wear it. I miss you, Tolu. More than is logical or rational. But then, I've never been any of those things when it comes to you, have I?. I remember nearly beating up Rolake for brushing up against you that one time. You see, Tolu? You're the rope that tethers me down to reality. I could never begin to imagine what life would be without you. Everyday, I ask God to give you back to me and bring you back home safe. I love you, Tolu. I hope you're okay.

All my love,

Tiwi

My Tolu

Two days ago, Sergeant Gbolahan, your commanding officer, sent me a very official looking letter. When I first opened it and saw the word "Condolences", I thought I had died. I opened that letter and he made a very big fuss of telling me that you were "no longer with us". Did the enemy kidnap you? You can't be dead. You're my life. You're the source of my joy. You're the culmination of every thing I live for. If you had really stepped on that landmine and died, then I must have died too. Don't you see it? My world has gone grey. I cannot distinguish between waking and sleeping because everything seems like a horrid dream of some sort. Tolu, you said you'd be the one to hold my arthritic hands when we were eighty. You promised to be the best father to Neesha. Now, she'll never know your face. She'll never watch your eyes crinkle at the corners when you look at her. She'll never have you give her those piggyback rides that you were doing eager to do as a dad. I'll never hold your hands and smudge ice cream on your nose. You were supposed to come home in two weeks, Tolu! The neighbours have gathered downstairs. I cannot go and see them. It feels like I'm playing the part of the bereaved widow and I have no idea what to do because I'm not one. Tolu, you've left me bereft. I feel like a tiny rowboat in the storm without any mooring. I don't know how I'll live without you. Perhaps I won't. Even Neesha has gone quiet. I can't see how she wouldn't have. It's almost as though she knows that a kick would kill me. Come back, wake me up, and tell me this was all a nightmare .

Your Tiwi

Dear Tolu

Neesha came last week. She was blue and cold. I could not find it in my heart to shed a tear. The doctors said there was nothing they could have possibly done for her. Something about her blood not having enough oxygen. If you were here, you'd know exactly what to say. You wouldn't brush aside my feelings. Everyone says I'm supposed to move on somehow but how do you move on from something that wasn't just your past but your present and future? I must sound like a broken record already but you were my life. I haven't even emptied your wardrobe yet. My mum came to stay at our house. She says I can't take care of myself. How do I bring myself to tell her that I can't do it because you were supposed to be the only one entrusted with that responsibility? It's been three months. Everyday, I wake up, look up at the clock and hope that somehow, you'll return. Is this what it feels like to wish you no longer existed? Is this what it feels like to die little by little? Is this what it feels like for a part of your heart to die, never to resurrect? I wish you could answer me, I wish I could hold your hand again.

Your Tiwi

Tolu,

It's been two years. Everyone says I'm doing so well and that I've moved on so completely. When they do, all I hear is that I've betrayed you somehow. I buried Neesha next to you. So that even if she never got to know you in life, she may at least have her father hold her in death. I feel cold everyday now. Hollow. As though someone hewed out my insides and left the container empty. I suppose I'm moving on, in a sense. I met someone at the supermarket yesterday. He said his name was Yinka. He also asked if I had someone in my life. Since you left, I've had to assume the title of "Widow" and this was how I introduced myself to him. I can't quite explain how I felt. I was happy, but then appalled that I could feel that way with someone who wasn't you. I suppose they never teach someone how to forget their dead husband and be happy with another man. But I know that you would want me to be happy. And I'm grateful. No one knows I still write to you. I suppose I have to stop soon. But for now, I will console myself with the fact that I can still speak to you, sort of. Goodbye Tolu, Yinka and I are meeting up again

Tiwi.