1/2/2023

This time last year, I was preparing for the funeral rites of my mummy.

I had arrived home 3 days before that day, to a portrait of my beautiful mother on the front door. And the tears which were ever present throughout that period just continued to flow, I didn't even try to stop it, and I couldn't stop it even when I tried.

The evening Vigil Mass was slated for 6pm, and there were still things to do before then. Earlier in the day, I had gone to the Mortuary to drop off some things in preparation for the next day when we would come and collect Her mortal remains. That was my first time in a Mortuary, I felt so scared.

Shortly before mass, my mum's relatives from Ogoja had just arrived, and they arrived with so much weeping and shouting for their sister. So in-between, I was also offering comfort to my aunties, and they were doing the same for me.

However, the first hardest part of that day was when I was asked to remove some wrappers from my mum's box including her CWO uniform and take it with me to church. I remember going through the box and I didnt know when tears were falling from my eyes. I was sobbing softly, but my dad could hear me, he kept calling my name, I didnt listen.

All I could think about was all the times I would arrange those boxes with her giving directions on where each wrapper should go.

I remembered everytime I begged her for one of her 2 yard ankara pieces so that I could make an ankara dress with it, and her warnings not to touch it.

I remembered sunday mornings when she would call me into her room to look at her outfit and ask if this blouse went with this wrapper or if the gele matched the outfit.

All the memories came back and I sat down on that floor and cried. There was so much crying in the house that day, so I told myself to stand up. I knew I had a duty to do for my mum. I had to be strong to send her off. And I couldnt do that by crying.

The second hardest part was the frustration I felt because my siblings and I were very late for that mass. The taxi man we called didn't have fuel, and everyone was calling me to ask where we were. Mass would start more than 30 minutes later than scheduled, because they were waiting for the children to arrive first. But in all, we had a beautiful Vigil Mass and a candlelight procession after and a night of songs for her with the choir.

The third hardest part of that day was when we were singing her favourite songs like "Peace be Still" and "It pays to serve Jesus" , I cried through both of them, but I sang it with all my heart and a shaky voice. I just couldn't believe that all of this "fade fade each earthly joy" and "when peace like a river" hymns were for my mum. This was the kind of thing she would drag me to attend with her, and now we were holding one for her?? It seemed so unreal.

That night, I drew strength from all my friends and family members who came for the Vigil Mass. They kept holding me and hugging me, I didn't feel quite alone.

That mass was just the beginning of the three day Funeral rites, and I was already exhausted, and I had not yet seen her.

And yes, the next day was harder.