I would spend time listening to stories of her youth, the family diaspora from this house and moments of silence. such as this, hearing her supplicate.
Dadima was unostentatious, patient and indomitable. She taught me to be all of these things.
The house isn’t the same since she left. There is decay and emptiness. It is as if the house died with her.
I am sorry I never made it back in time to keep my promise.
I am sorry I never got to say goodbye.
I am sorry you didn’t hear what you mean for me.
When I finally came back all I could do was cry.
I sat in that chair and cried.
I stood in the veranda and cried.
I stood over her grave and cried.
I miss you.