**This is the last episode of Kamsi. A big thanks to everyone who loved and took ownership of the story. It was very inspiring. Kamsi told her story, the way it went was a bit different from how I envisioned it initially. But I enjoyed writing it and the feedback, comments, encouragements I got. Thank you.
Sometimes we fail to appreciate those who stand with us through everything, who make sure to be present even if they have space only in the background. It was Christmas Eve and my dream came true, I was with my family.
It’s been six months since my father died and I found that he has a son from another woman. I broke up with Tega, a man who made me laugh and smile till my cheeks hurt; a man I love. I had to cut my hair. Although custom demands it, I needed to cut off what my father loved because he betrayed me and what Tega loved because I had shattered our bliss. It was a cleansing ritual of some sorts for me. It was growing back my hair. I was doing well at work. I was trying to be happy, I was almost happy. We have not even heard from Aunty Oby and our supposed brother.
Things happened too quickly. My father burial was planned. We had to go bury him in the village because that was what he requested in his will. I starred at the plain black dress I was going to wear for his burial. It was dull, a proper funeral dress if there was anything like that. Tears didn’t come out anymore when I cried. I started losing touch of everything, I began to just exist. I missed my father more than I appreciated his presence when he was alive.
My father died the day after Tega proposed to me. I noticed the house was still when I woke up that morning, I went to my parents’ room and I saw my mom lying on the floor weeping. My father was still in bed. He seemed asleep until I touched his body and it was lifeless. I dragged my mother from the floor and tried consoling her.
But that’s fine.
I removed my glasses, wiped it and wore it back, he was still standing there and he was staring back at me. In my head, he was singing Lionel Richie’s Angel but he just smiled, waved and walked away. I got my senses back and called my mother before taking a bus.
Nnamdi arranged for me to meet with his friend, Kene an editor for Exquisite a lifestyle magazine. Nnamdi was exactly as I expected; uncomfortably close, trying too hard to be the good in-law, inventing lifeless stories and always drooling. It is a good thing that Cheta is still away for her conference so I can enjoy my stay. She and Nnamdi would have been too much.
“I can’t believe this!” Cheta banged the dining table. “I even called you, wasted my precious battery life on your stupidity. And you are here, pouring dust and telling me absolute rubbish”.
My mother has always been a very observant woman. She noticed little things, things that seemed irrelevant. She is also very proud she has three girls, she didn’t allow us to make excuses based on gender. We are her children without emphasis on the female aspect.