Winter’s Embrace

“Compliments of the season…” I heard someone say.

I turned around to see a big smile plastered on the face of someone, a stranger…

Of course, the appropriate response was “thank you, I wish you the same” but for some reason I couldn’t reply in kind. A tight-lipped smile was all I could offer.

The stranger seemed not offended by my lack of enthusiasm and offered a hug and went her merry way, leaving me once again to my thoughts.

The cheery stranger wasn’t the only unique thing about the season, the telltale signs were there for all to see.

The roads were covered with dust; ironic that we Nigerians should be blessed with mountains of dust while the Western world got to enjoy beautiful carved snowflakes. I’m quite sure that some won’t share this opinion of mine but well… to each their own.

Decorations hung on nearly every house with Christmas tunes blasting from several corners of the street. Contributing to one general fact, Christmas is here.

A frown of displeasure crept into my face at the thought at which I silently reproached myself at the antagonistic thoughts.

Christmas after all is a season to be jolly, a period of joy, hope, of family… But sadly, our family, my family… is incomplete without Mum.

I guess my antagonistic feelings toward the season stemmed from the aching sense of loss I feel whenever the season draws near. After we lost mum, a family once three became a family of two. I and dad could never completely get over her loss. It seemed she was the glue that held the family together.

Throughout my childhood I had always been a mummy’s girl. Dad was never home, always busy with work. Who could expect less from a practicing surgeon?

It was always mom; she was always there…until she wasn’t.

Two years ago, on the 21^st of December was the most the most traumatic day of my life. I was in the university, a 300-level student of law finishing up with the semester’s examinations and preparing to go home for the holidays warmed at the prospects of the season and of the events which I knew had already been planned meticulously by mom.

“Christmas was her favorite time of the year”, my line of thoughts interrupted by the realization that I had reached my home.

On my way to my room, I met my dad sitting at the dining table, in no mood for long talk I muttered a hasty greeting and wanted to continue on my way when he called me back.

“Nnem” he called several emotions passing across his face, but I refused to pity him instead I balled my fists and gave him an indifferent look. He had no right to call me by the pet's name originally reserved for mom. Well, my name was Nnenna, but that fact is irrelevant to this situation.

He opened his mouth and closed it severally in a bid to say something but lost his nerve. I was irritated at his attempts that I stormed off to my room. He had no right to try now, he had lost his chance when mom was alive.

Some might say I’m too hard on him, but I couldn’t agree less.

She was his wife, how else was he to explain that he didn’t know she was terminally ill.

I came back that day on the 21^st of December to meet my home in a state of gloom. My first thought was that surely my mom stepped out because I expected to hear some music signifying the season or catch a wisp of some freshly baked rolls. I had thought at that time that it was because I hadn’t called to say I’d be home.

I wanted it to be a surprise, but I ended up with a surprise myself…mum was dead.

“No that’s impossible”, I remembered crying. “I…I got her call just YESTERDAY I had said but…''you didn’t pick'', A voice in my head had accused. At that, I broke down in tears refusing to be consoled. My dad tried to take me in his arms, but I didn’t let him. The only person who could console me was gone, gone forever.

We were later informed that she had died of COPD (CHRONIC OBSTRUCTIVE PULMONARY DISEASE). Wasn’t my dad supposed to know? Her husband…a doctor. What was the use of his precious profession if he couldn’t save his wife? That was the beginning of an even wider gap between us.

Coming back from my memory lane, I sniffed. Memories of her death always depressed me.

It came as a surprise to me that I had been standing at my balcony overlooking the night sky. It was beautiful. The stars shimmered like diamonds, with the moon casting a luminous glow from above. The air crisp and biting at my skin reminding me of the lack of a sweater. I turned to go into my room to get one when I caught sight of a shooting star.

It’s stupid actually, wishing on a shooting star with me being grown and all. This is Nigeria…we don’t believe in such. In spite of this I couldn’t ignore the growing need in me to just give it a try. So, I took a deep breath and with all feelings and emotions, clutching my fingers to my breast I whispered…All I want for Christmas is you, mum. Hoping, for some reason that someone above heard my wish...

With that I turned to my bed and drew my covers, well spent from the emotions of the day.

******************************

Beautiful aroma of freshly baked pies wafted to my nose forcing me to open my eyes. I looked around me, my eyes adjusting to the darkness of my bedroom. Confusion set in as I wondered who could be baking a pie at this time of the night.

The aroma hadn’t simply disappeared, it got stronger and stronger with each growing second. It also smelt familiar.

finally deciding to quit guessing and check it out I trudged to the kitchen stopping at the sight of something I didn’t quite understand.

My mom, wrapped in her favorite kitchen apron and humming her favorite Christmas tune. My eyes welled up with tears as I was once again reminded of all the times, we had baked pies and stuff in this same kitchen.

My sniffles must have caught her attention because she turned at once and gave me a very big smile. Her beautiful eyes shone with that warmth I had so much missed. I wanted to hug her desperately, but I wasn’t sure of the rules of our meeting. I didn't want to wake up from this beautiful dream. I was even afraid to pinch myself awake, why would I?

Her arms opened wide was all the invitation I needed covering the distance between us I gave her one of the biggest hugs I could muster which she returned with equal fervor.

I stayed in her arms for a long time soaking up her warmth, I also cried, a lot... but she didn't care instead she hugged me tighter. After I was sure to have received a hug that would last a lifetime, I pulled her a seat, didn't want to waste another moment of my time in regrets so I poured my heart to her.

I told her how badly I missed her and my guilt for not picking her call the day she died. I had meant well at the time, but it was still wrong.

In turn, she had assured me that nothing could diminish her love for me, nothing at all. She also encouraged me to forgive my dad. She showed me a vision of him crying over and over. He looked so broken, over her death and my silent treatment. Compassion for him washed over me and I decided to give him a chance, to try forgiveness.

Her presence brought me so much peace, I wished that I could drag on this experience, but it was impossible so after a while I gave her one last hug and went up to my room effectively cutting off the experience.

*****************************

After the experience I had with my mum the previous night. I gained a new perspective into the true meaning of Christmas. Christmas was a period of love.

The first step I took in reconciling with my dad was to give him a very big hug, he was shocked to say the least but who could blame I was surprised myself, but I felt relieved similar to a big load being lifted off my chest.

We also made it a priority to celebrate Christmas together. We went to the mall, and I watched him try to make up for the lost time and this time I wasn't irritated, it was quite the opposite.

We had decided to build our relationship piece by piece after all Rome wasn't built in a day.

Baby steps….