It’s one o’ clock in the morning, I should sleep. One of my cousin’s is in my room. A couple of minutes ago, she asked me a question, “What will you be doing tomorrow?” Her voice is soft and she looked right into my eyes. “I’ll be right with you,” I said.
There’s a church service; her mum’s burial. She is fourteen years old.
Yesterday is the first time we’ve seen each other in 6-7 years.. Even she can’t remember that time. She was a head and a half shorter then ane now she’s almost taller than me.
I’ve not really talked to ànyone about my Aunty’s demise. Its been months, july to be exact. I’ve only told one person in fact. And that’s because she was around the day the coffin bearers came for a meeting with my mum. They’re a pretty well known group in Lagos, so once I was coming in and I saw the vehicle with the MIC logo, i told her. It’s just a little too close to home. My mum’s younger sister. She had sickle cell anaemia. She was 56.
One of my uncles came to my room while i was trying to make a bit of room for my cousin. He told me how i was the closest female family my cousin had, reminding me about last year when his wife had died and I had looked after his two daughters. I teared up a little when he left. But, i still didn’t want to talk about how i felt/ feel to anyone.
I don’t even know what I feel…