Grief is a lot harder than I thought. Is it not simply a period of time you grieve after which you move on with your life, your responsibilities? Is it not temporary tears and pain? Is it not a gradually fading memory? Why is his face as bright as day in my mind every morning? Why do I hear his voice every time I am about to make a bad decision? Why do I remember his laughter and cheer every time I accomplish a work task? I don’t understand any of this.

My lips quiver and I stare into space. I freeze. I run to the bathroom to cry. I press my brakes on the highway. I look at myself in the mirror and ask: Why? Though I had been reckless, my conscience ever pricking me. I had not been so attentive. I could have paid more attention. I could have been more loving, more forgiving. Less reactive. Less sensitive. I could have kept turning the other cheek with the people around me. I could have been a born again Christian. I could have tried, but I didn’t, so God decided to punish me. That is the only reasonable explanation for this tightness in my chest that blamed me for my father’s death, or at least, the manner at which he died.

“Ezinne, I don’t have credit. Call me back now, there is something I want to tell you”

“Okay, sir” I had said and dropped my phone. I will recharge later and call him back, I thought. My procrastination had finally cut up with me and decided this was the time to deal mercilessly with me. It wasn’t up to a few hours when my sister called crying:

“Aunty Ezinne, Daddy is not breathing…”

She spoke English but I didn’t understand any of the things coming out of her mouth. Time froze. Everything I thought I stood for, diminished.

I held my father’s body and in that moment I could tell he was gone and he was never coming back. I laid on the ground and I cried. I felt pain in its rawest form. I broke down to the smallest grain of sand. I became nobody.

I am no longer the Ezinne the world knew. In fact, I don’t know myself anymore. I am nothing, no one. I still love all I do for work and fun. I still love my family and friends. I still want to be wealthy and powerful, and help a lot of people. But deep down I feel so dead, so lost. I can’t explain the feeling to you. And I sincerely wish you never experience it. Grief is a lot harder than I thought.