My chest hurts. I’m inconsolable. I knew it would come but I didn’t know it would hurt this badly. I’ve never known how to deal with death- the closest person to me already died when I was young- my brother, my only full sibling. Every time someone has died, I’ve escaped the pain somehow. Either I knew them, but not well enough, or I felt empathy for those affected, but didn’t truly walk in their shoes. But now I’m hurt. I’m hurting. I remember our last conversation. It broke my heart to pieces. I spoke to you on the phone and all your zest was gone. All your zeal, your cheekiness, your humor… it was gone and you sounded withdrawn and forlorn. It hurt me so much that I was unable to help in so many different ways. I was too far away and I was too young and too incapable and too modern to understand the thoughts in your mind and why life seemed to have lost all meaning for you. I couldn’t send anything so I sent love. I thought about you daily and willed God to keep you for just a little while longer. Just a few more months. I prayed earnestly that you would make it to the end of the year. I just wanted to see you one last time. My heart is breaking; I’m crying so many tears for you and I just thank you for birthing my mother and for birthing me. Without you, there is no me. You birthed a nation. You loved to give life, both literally and figuratively. You had ten children, were told not to have any more, and then you had two more! That stubbornness we all grew to love and to develop. 12 children, 64 grandchildren, several great grand children. We all loved you. LOVE you. You never lacked an abundance of warm, willing hearts around you. Your children, your grandchildren, your great grandchildren. I’ll never ever forget your 80th birthday. I am so so glad we took this picture together. Tricia, Sophia, and I. Your babies. The ones who love to think of ourselves as your favorite granddaughters. You were always joking, Maame. Always asking if I wasn’t done with school yet and when I would bring home a baby. Or at least the one who’d be the baby’s father. Oh Maame. I miss you… I joked that you gave a ‘unique kind of pressure’. You valued life so much; you valued children. Everyone around you immediately felt mothered. You turned mothering into an art. I remember bothering you with Tricia and playing with the limp flab under your arm and you’d just chuckle and tell us we’d get there too, and soon. You’d eat your fried fish, take out the bones and pop some into Tricia’s and my 20+ year old mouths. We were still babies to you. Always your kids. You mothered effortlessly. You raised a nation. I will always love you, Maame Adwoa Adowa. Rest in Perfect Perfect Peace. We owe it all to you.
I’m sorry. I will in a little while. Promise?
Ah okay so first of all tumblr isn't letting me show my URL (I don't know why) so you won't know who I am :( But HEY!!!! My name is Kiiki and I've spent the greater part of my day reading your blog. Wow, you are amazing, with a capital H. And that 'Man Up' post? Brilliant! I stan for you now, to be honest. Bissous!
Thank you so much for the love, makes me so happy… thanks for taking the time to leave such a sweet note! Happy holidays, darling :-)