Chapter 2: Loss!

If there is anything you are ever going to learn from me is that never, and I mean NEVER in your life think that life is good. Oh, trust me on this one; this is one area that you never want to find out what happens.

It was supposed to be a beautiful morning; it was supposed to be a beautiful pleasant morning. I had gone to bed the previous night thinking that life was good, that I had everything that an eight year old could possibly ever imagine having. Technically I was right; I did have everything I could possibly imagine. What baffles me is how in our moment of feeling smug about the world, thinking that we have everything we could possibly need, life strips us of everything we have.

It was supposed to be a beautiful morning, a morning when the sun casts a golden glow on all of the globe's surface, a morning when the birds sing in their sweet melodious tunes, blessing mankind with their voices from above, a time when the gentle hands of the wind scratch our faces of every itch that we might have, cradling us in their gentle hands. August 18, 1995 was supposed to be a beautiful, pleasant morning. But for some reasons, it was not.

I woke up still feeling like everything was right in the world. We, my mom and I woke up feeling like everything was right in the universe. We said our morning prayer; it was a tradition that is as old as me. Obviously, dad was a central issue. We prayed about whatever it is that families pray about. It is a good start for the day.

I went back upstairs to my room after prayers. Since I could remember, I have had a room all to myself. I went back to sleep as it was still early in the morning. I napped for sometimes, woke up feeling more refreshed and energized. I took care of my morning rituals and headed downstairs to the sitting room. I remember whistling some happy tunes that I can't remember now that I think about it.

I came to a screeching halt when I saw mom, my own mother curled into a ball, crying like a baby. There were two men with her, watching her cry. They wore black suits and their face was expressionless, betraying no emotions. I should have greeted them, paid them some curtsey, but the sight of my mother crying like a baby was gut-wrenching.

I rushed over to my mom's side; "what happened mom, what is wrong, why are you crying, are you okay?" I assaulted mom with a barrage of questions. She couldn't answer though; she was far too gone in sorrow to hear what I was saying. If anything, her sobs increased.

I turned to the gentlemen sitting in our sitting room; "Good day sirs..." If there is anything my parents thought me, it was to be always polite to people, especially strangers no matter the situation. I shook their hands for good measure, something I have seen my father do so many times. " ... Please can someone tell me what is going on here?" Whatever calm I felt was gone as no information was forthcoming.

"I am not sure we can volunteer such information, Mr. Williams." One of them volunteered. He was being formal. "And why if I may ask?" I retorted. "You are awfully young to receive such information, I am sorry." The last part was added on a whim.

Seeing that nothing was going to come out of my exchange with them, I turned to my mother once again. "Mom, what is wrong? Please tell me. Seeing you like this is painful to me, please tell me what is going on here, I am confused." Have I ever mentioned that I am sneaky? Well I am and it's in the blood. Sue me.

If I had known, I would have kept quiet, hell I wouldn't even have woken up on that day. But how was I to know this. Mom looked at me for moments that I thought I was being scrutinized. After sometimes, she looked down on the floor resigned. I almost never heard her, I almost never thought those words would ever be said to me, I wish I hadn't.

"He is dead." That was mostly a whisper, as if she couldn't say those words. Then her voice increased a little as did her sobs. "Your father is dead, Evans, they have killed him." Have you ever felt your world stop? Have you ever felt your whole universe just stop as if your life was a movie that has just been paused? That was how I felt. Hearing those words as they came out from my mother's mouth had my world coming to a screeching halt. My whole world shrunk before my very eyes until I couldn't see anything else. It was unbelievable. My father, dead? That was the question I kept asking myself.

I didn't want to believe it, because to me it wasn't true. But it was. I willed myself to cry, but tears came not from my eyes. I willed myself to shout but no sound came from my lips. I willed myself to run but no life came to my limbs. I willed the ground to open up and swallow me for the pain was so much that I couldn't bear it, but the ground said it had had it fill. Finally, I willed myself to wake up from this sordid nightmare, for it was a nightmare to me, one that I wanted to desperately wake up from. Alas, my nightmare had become my reality. Looking back, I think that was the day I died to the world. Nothing else seemed to make any sense at all.

I must have stood there for what seemed like eternity but I know it was only for a few moments. I searched for the tears that I was sure would be on my face, I searched desperately for them. But my hands came up dry. There were no tears on my face! How could I not cry? I was supposed to cry. I had just lost my father and here I was not crying. For some reasons, the knowledge that I couldn't even cry for my dear father was more painful than his death. I loved him with all of my heart. I still do love him, yet I couldn't even shed a single tear for him. If there was anything I thought at that moment, it was that I had betrayed my father. It was a very unsettling feeling. It would be years before I would get over this feeling and it took a considerably amount of effort.