It is the day of the wake and as one of his children, his legacy left behind, I must speak. Every time I think of speaking breath catches in my chest. Momentarily everything stops. I panic, I cry. It does not stop, the pattern never changes; I must speak and then I can not breathe. It makes sense to conclude that I will not do it, I can not.
What to say about the man who shaped you? The man who made you the woman you are today? The one of three people you’ve known since the first moment of your life. How do you say goodbye?
It is impossible, a mountain I can not scale. I can not lie, but I can find no good. These people, the ones that expect to hear my words, but did not, can not understand, do not need to understand.
I will not do it.
I go for a run, to think, to move, to survive. My problems are solvable in that space.
Problem one: I will not do it – tick.
Problem two: cancer, someone else’s, a job and bad timing. But I’m resilient, dangerously so, but resilience is the only bit that matters. I can manage it, juggle on quicksand, get across to solid ground… because of him. My worsts have happened. Happened long ago. I was forged out of worsts. Today, I realise that those worsts give me capacity, give me drive, give me the ability to lead, to get across the quicksand. I should be grateful for that. Maybe I owe him a thank you.
My brothers, the ones in which the legacy is shared, are better than me. They do what I can not. They make me understand that my words are for me. For him. I can not lie, but I don’t need to. I have my own truth.
My brothers, the ones in which the legacy is shared, are better than me. They help me scale the mountain. I will not let them down.
I speak.
Ify