I grew up with my dad, the strongest man I've ever known. Mum abandoned me when I was just seven months old. I always wondered how a woman could conceive, carry a child for months, give birth, nurture the child and then abandon the child. Why labour in vain? Would it not have been easier to abort or give the child up for adoption?
Dad woke up one morning to find me at his doorstep.Mum dropped me off at my dad's. She had found another lover and she was not allowed to move into his home with me. Mum's new found love did not want the baggage that came with her, so she picked him over me.
The moment dad opened his door and found me at his doorstep, his life changed. Dad grew from being an immature seventeen year old boy to a man overnight. He had just been accepted into the university, so he had to defer his admission in order to take care of me. Dad never knew his father and his mum worked day and night to ensure he had a good life. Dad did not want that kind of life for me. He and his elder sister, Aunt Helen, hid my birth from his mum for about three years. Aunt Helen was always ready to help out. I stayed with her whenever my dad had to work late.
Dad made sure I never missed my mum. He was a father and mother to me. Several years went by without a word from my mum. No birthday cards, text messsges or visits. Until one day when I picked up an envelope that was stashed between the padlock at the gate. I was surprised to see that it was addressed to me. I opened the envelope in a hurry, my hands shaking and heart breaking as I read each word.
Why would dad lie to me all these years? That was all I could ask myself after reading the letter from my mum. Mum had described my dad as an egotistic and irresponsible guy. He got her pregnant and denied responsibility for the pregnancy, even though he was mum's first and only love. Mum thought dad was going to change after I was born, but he didn't. He continually denied that I was his child, even though I was his splitting image.
Mum had finally had it with dad's irresponsibility, so one day, she went to his house to tell him to man up. Mum dropped me off with him when he kept insisting I wasn't his child. Mom was about 30 minutes away from dad's home when she realised that leaving me with dad was a mistake, so she decided to go back and get me. While mum was crossing the road, lost in thought, a car swerved to avoid hitting a cyclist and ran straight into mum, sending her flying to the side of the road.
Mum lost her memory as a result of the accident. She lost her phone and, so it was impossible to identify her. The driver who hit her was a young widower whose wife died in a plane crash. He took care of her and got her a job as his Personal Assistant. He named her Ifechukwude, his late wife's name. Mum remained with the widower and after many years, they got married.
I took a break from reading the letter, dropping it as I thought mum's account of what happened did not make sense. How can she have amnesia and remember me? I picked up the letter and was about to tear it up, but my curiousity got the best of me, so I resumed reading.
Mum noted that she recently witnessed a robbery at the bank. Her phone rang while the robbery was in progress. Mum brought out the phone from her bag in order to put it off when one of robbers hit her head with the butt of his gun. The robber had seen her fiddling with her phone and thought she wanted to call the police.
Mum blacked out and when she came to, the robbers were gone and she found herself surrounded by concerned bank customers. She was slowly helped to her feet. The pain in her head was excruciating and made her nauseous. Mum eventually made it home. In addition to the bump on her head, she was beggining to regain some of her memories. It took a while, but mum eventually regained her memory. She cried bitterly when she remembered me and all the years of being separated from me that she would never recover. With her husband's help and a lot of work, mum was able to locate old friends, who in turn, helped her get dad's address.
Even though I should be angry at dad for making up stories about how mum abandoned me for her lover, I'm not. I learnt two great lessons from this experience. Things are not always the way they seem and there are always two sides to a story.
I would be meeting mum in a few hours and I'm nervous and freaked out about what to wear and how to look. what difference would it make anyway? A child would always look pretty to her Mum. Wish me luck.
