@KoyaTheHermit’s Letter

Welcome to the second project on obafuntaydotcom, The Letter to my unborn child project. If you missed the preview, you can view it here, just so you have an idea what we are up to, as much as the project title, speaks for itself.

Ever thought of writing a letter? Better still, a letter to your unborn child?

What would you name him/her? Why not give your unborn child a name now and write him/her a letter? Yes! Right now! Doesn’t sound like a bad idea to me.

What do you think?

Today, we’d be reading Temi’s letter.

Hang in there.

Baby

Dear Daughter,

At the time you’re reading this letter, two things are certain. I am dead, and you are thirteen years young. If nothing else, I’d like you to know two things. I love you and, I’m so, very sorry.

Sorry that I can’t be there to hold you when you cry, or pick you up when you are stumbling, guide you against my bad choices. Sorry that I would not be able to share your comfort food and watch a sappy romance movie as you sob into my bosom after your first breakup. Sorry that I would never be able to be content just to be filled with love at a look, a touch, a smile from you. Sorry that I would never be able to tuck you in at night, or read you a bedtime story, watching your eyelids flutter close as your dreams run in meanders over your face. Sorry that I won’t be able to hear you sleep-talk, or hold you through the tumultuous nights filled with boogeymen and monsters.

Sorry that I would never be able to attend your PTA meetings, or watch you learn to play your first musical instrument, or attend your first ballet recital. Sorry that I would never get to hold your hand as we cross the street until you tell me you can do it on your own. Sorry that I would never be able to fall in love with you in different ways all over again day after day. Sorry that I couldn’t watch you smile and laugh. Sorry that I couldn’t watch you learn to talk and walk, and sneak from our house to your first boyfriend’s arms. Sorry that I couldn’t be in on your itty bitty secrets, and share your big dreams, using your ceiling as a billboard. Sorry that I couldn’t watch you grow into the beautiful young woman I’m certain you have become. Sorry that Death’s grip was stronger than my will. Sorry that I could never whisper ‘I love you’ and nibble on your ears as we had a good ole’ laugh. Sorry that sorry is but a word, quickly uttered and in itself grossly inadequate.

It hurts more than anything else that I can’t be, but sorry.

Tiwa. Dear Tiwa. Tiwaloreoluwa. God’s gift is ours. You are God’s gift to me.

That grey day, when the doctor told me of the placenta previa that riddled my innards and asked me to choose between life and you, I knew. I knew you were my choice, without thinking. You rescued my mind and my heart when you came into my body, my baby. When I discovered that day that I could carry you for months, I resolved that my last months, no matter how difficult, would be spent loving you, preparing for you, sacrificing for you. I’d rather bring you into the world, than remove you from my womb, I told your father, as his eyes glistened with tears. I prayed in the corner of my room that night, and many others after it, and I never felt more convinced of anything else in my entire life. You are the last note to the symphony that is my life.

You, my darling, are the baton that I carried in the last lap in my life’s relay and while I dread this inevitable day of The Reaper’s death call, I am grateful to God, in His infinite mercies, for deeming me worthy as a vessel to bear you into this un-beseeming world on that same day. I am comforted with the idea of carrying you for the next eight months, and holding you in my arms, looking at your adorable, twinkly little eyes, as my life’s journey ends. I hope your father teaches you to be you, as he showed me who I am.

I hope he lets you realize who you are. I hope you love the things that I do. I hope you love to live, laugh and sing and dance. Talk and chortle all at once. Books and meaningful music. Guzzling up the words and lyrics as your soul becomes over-fed. Ice cream, coffee and stuffed animals. Soothing all hurt, and sealing gaping holes. I hope that you live a life as God wants you to. I hope and pray to God that you find Him, and seek Him forever more. Seek honesty, love, joy and integrity; for in these you find truth and wholesomeness. I hope you remember always that no matter what, you’re a beautiful person. You are light, and light cannot be hidden. I hope you remember that your power can supersede any and every block placed in your path to fulfillment. I hope you don’t make my mistakes.

Respect your father. He’s inexplicably strong, and his love for you can be seconded to none. Love him, and take care of him. Complement his shortcomings, and don’t let him drown in misery, as he tends to. And if he marries again, as I have asked him to; respect his wife and take care of her. These would be your parents, your anchors.

Family is key. Honor them, keep them close, and don’t ever let anyone (even you) take advantage of them. They are your prized jewels, your world. Love them, and never let go. They will always love you, no matter what you do, or what happens in this whirlpool called life. I pray my friends and siblings become your family, and that they teach you the virtues I’d have loved to instill in you.

You see, baby girl, life can be like a song. Whereby things start off slowly and gently, in low notes, and then there’s a bridge of hollow happenings, and suddenly, there is an increase in tempo; a crescendo of events for good, and an explosion into beautiful melodies until they fade off into nothingness.

Your life, just like mine or anybody else’s is not going to be filled with only joy and rainbows. There would be harsh storms, my darling, and I pray to God that you learn the source of your strength early, and the ability to draw from it. So be strong. No one but yourself can make you unable to do something. When Life throws you hardened balls of hurt and hurls bitter bile of unkindness at you, stare her with all indignation flashing in your eyes, and rise beyond it, like a phoenix from darkened ashes. Strive for perfection. Never settle for mediocrity. You, my love, are the spawn of greatness. The blood that runs in your veins are not of mere men. Read far and wide. Broaden your horizon, and dream. Don’t ever stop dreaming.

Love wholeheartedly. Give all and expect nothing in return. Remember to love God first, for He keeps you in health and peace, and love others, for they are human and represent God here on earth, albeit their insufficient cage of flesh. Respect everyone around you, and learn to sacrifice; be it your time, words, or money for the betterment of another’s’ day or life. Employ courtesy and class, for without them, one cannot be called a woman. When heartbreak befalls you my sweetheart, break and build. Leave no cracks un-smoothed. Be it a boy or death, life would not always be fair. Find closure in your closet. Don’t let disappointments deter you from actualizing your dreams. Pain is addictive. Do not drown yourself in your own tears.

Build long-lasting, and symbiotic friendships and relationships. Learn from these people. Grow with them by your side. Never forget that people will fail you, be hypocritical, and try to hurt you; but don’t fail anybody. Stand by your word. Take them along in your journey. Grow into your own. Don’t let anybody push you down. I embodied strength, bordering on stubbornness. My obstinate nature in you must be put into good use. Do not let anyone – be it man, woman, friend or even husband dictate to you what is best for you. They may correct, contribute, or support, but never ever dictate to you.

Muliebrity entails brains, brawn and beauty. I pray you find that you find that these do not relate solely to the physical sense. They are innate in you, you just need to reach into it.
Make the verses of Proverbs 31 of the Bible your mantras, baby. They constitute a manual for womanhood.

Look within, find peace.
Be aware of the beauty you radiate. Bubble with mirth.
Never forget, everything I do, I do it for you.
You my love, are my light and life.

I love you, with every fiber of my being and every certainty of my existence.

Your mother.

• • •

A PENNY FOR YOUR THOUGHTS?

You can send in your own written letters to obafuntay@gmail.com

N.B. The project goes on Monday, with @Delia_Maraj‘s letter.

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I just want to be normal. by @Gbemisola_A

My name is Gbemi and I write short stories and not-so-short stories among many other things, I’ve been given a chance to write for Obafuntaydotcom and here’s a little something I finally found time to come up with.
Hope you like it.
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My name is Vanessa Folusaye and I believe I’m normal. To be honest I can’t exactly determine what normal really is neither can I explain it. You see, I didn’t really grow up like the rest; I didn’t have a loving father who was affectionate with his kids, neither did I have a mother who was quick to discipline or offer any sort of reprimand. I lived through complete opposites. My father had ‘tough love’, what he saw as befitting compassion was rewarding us with two single hard sweets and sometimes a pat on the head with a straight face and a look that said, you’re worth nothing to me (I think I was the only one that saw that though). No special ceremony. Nothing. I had 2 brothers, one above and one below, you would think with three kids we would at least be a conventional family. My mother on the other hand was different, she would shower us with gifts, spoil us beyond our wildest thoughts and not once would she condemn anything we did. 
 
Here I am completely disillusioned with the world in general. I don’t know about my brothers, we all got sent away to different boarding schools after my mum was diagnosed with raging Schizophrenia. We should have known, no normal human being would hug and kiss a child for breaking sliding glass doors. My father would rather have his head cut off than look after teenage children, so we had no choice, we had to separate. I wasn’t bothered, I never knew my brothers. We all had the same problem, I was convinced that boys weren’t meant to show emotions of any sort and girls were meant to be overly loving and compassionate to everything, things got worse when they became the overly compassionate ones and I became the introverted disconnected one. I was sent to a school in the UK and that was where I spent my formative years.
 
My first year in university was just as you would expect a first year in university to be. I rarely got talked to because I didn’t seem approachable, I went for classes regularly, went out when I felt like and was starting to acquire a greater sense of normalcy. Then it finally came.
 
His name was Shahid Tauseef. He was the most good-looking man I had ever seen and he was so different from my father, he was sweet and compassionate, but not as extreme as my brothers. He came up to me in the café and just sat there for a while, before I could place my thoughts together we were conversing like old friends who hadn’t seen in years. It was very refreshing and that was the moment I finally felt normal, I felt human, I felt like a girl. 
 
Shad as I called him would take me around school, around the town where our school was located, soon it was to neighboring towns and cities and then we were travelling together, seeing the world together. I had fallen for this Pakistani boy who one day decided to sit next to me. It felt so wonderful. I knew he was feeling the same way, he just had to, from the light kisses on my cheek ‘by accident’ to holding my hands when visiting the chateau de Chambord in France or pulling me close when walking through Castel Sant’Angelo in Rome.
 
I knew, or thought I knew what was coming when he asked me to meet his family. His mum kept saying how I looked the part with my fair skin and long hair with big beautiful eyes and sweet pouty lips. His dad would say I acted just right and he was glad, I never understood what they were saying, I thought they were complements. I was none the wiser.
 
On this beautiful Sunday morning, I woke up with a start as I felt my phone vibrate beside my pillow, it was a text from Shad saying I should meet him downstairs in 30 minutes. I thought this was it, he was going to ask me to date him and have a relationship.
Boy was I in for a shock…
_____________________________________________________________
Second half of this story, continues tomorrow: 4pm

 

The other side of thoughts

I have a long flight ahead of me. Pleased at the chances I will get to cut corners, I gleefully anticipate my trip to oblivion.

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They say its game over; I beg to differ, the game only just begun. Numerous opportunities still lie in our paths to concede goals and lose even more glory. Oh the joy of pessimism! Freeing you from the throes of disappointment! You can’t dampen my spirits! Too late my spirits are already in a puddle! How can you make me depressed when you already met me in that state? The intoxicating sense of power over myself grips me, ha! Nobody can ruffle my feathers, he who is down need fear no fall.

CrazyOldMan

Have you noticed that there is something quite happy about depression? In the smug satisfaction that comes with pitying yourself? In the blameless piety involved in blaming others for your problems? Oh the joy of being guilt free.
Why do you laugh at the madman? Don’t you realize he has been emancipated from the mind boggling frustrations of sanity? No wonder he is so happy! You must be mad to hold on so desperately to your sanity. Ha ha ha ha!

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Why weep at death? Staring at the empty shell that once contained your loved one. What happened to the belief that he is in a better place and can be hurt no more? Is it doubt that makes us hang on so tightly to our existence? Attempting to delay our trip to the other side of breath! I wonder. I gaze into their eyes and I see their frustration, struggling for relevance in a sea of irrelevance! Striving to attain greatness by embracing mediocrity! Scurrying around in a rat race, gathering shiny jewels and trinkets only to lose them all on their final trip.
I stand alone, watching! The lone wolf amused at the futility of their struggles. Though as lost as they are, I choose to stand still till I find the road map with directions to redemption.

But how do I find if I do not seek? All certainly is vanity!

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The idiocy of war! I disagree with you, so I’ll send some of my sons over for you to kill; in exchange we kill some of your sons. It then boils down to the smarter party losing when he realizes he cannot afford to lose anymore sons! While the stupid victor gloats over his willingness to throw more life away! Three cheers for the outstanding victor! Hurray! It can be summarized thus, war is young men dying and old men talking.

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Lovers necking in the moonlight! Neither aware of the niggling doubts in the other’s heart, neither aware that in the next minute all the warm fuzzy feelings would be replaced with harsh animosity. It is funny that in a relationship the person who cares less wields more power, but isn’t it the vulnerability in caring that is the very essence of the relationship?

I gaze at the meadows the beauty of d flowers, the fluttering butterflies and a wry smile touches my lips as a small child grabs a butterfly and stuffs it in a jar. What is captivating shall be made captive, what is ravishing shall be ravished. It is the very nature of man that makes him destroy all that is beautiful in his path.

Written by @Yholar

#DearGod

Hey.

I want to pray to you, I know that on a norm, I’m supposed to be talking but truth is: I’m not sure I know how to do that properly I.e. Pray by talking, so I’ll just do this, which I think helps me express how I feel better.
I really hope you are listening or reading.

First of all, I’ve come to repent of my sins, I know I constantly mess up… I fall real short of your glory every now and then and I know that I deserve to be kicked out and not be forgiven but you said that I should always come boldly to your throne of Grace, so I’m here once more… Accept me, like that prodigal son in the bible. Take me back, forgive me. I’m sorry. I really am. Well, You know all things so check my heart, if it’s still hazy teach me, gimme the grace to want You completely.

I’d like to thank You for Your faithfulness in my life, overtime, I have come to accept that truly You are the unchangeable changer, the way You ever remain faithful amazes me even in the midst of all my mess ups and hiccups You remain firm, helping me. No matter how many times I consistently break your heart, You still believe in me and stay by me.

I’m grateful. You know I am.

I also want to thank You for the family you gave me, they are the Best, from my little sister (nicest, loving girl ever) to my Father(Super-Human) and my Brother(Large Heart) and Mother(a woman of virtue), they’ve all been the reason why I still believe in that word – LOVE.

I also appreciate You for my friends all of them, the ones I’ve kept and lost over-time…they went a long way in determining my very person.

God, I know You want me to be perfect as You are, I’m sorry I’m not there yet, not even close to near, but I thank you for who I am today, where I am today, and where you are taking me tomorrow. By your grace, I’d be Perfect.

I thank You for every part of my body especially my nose, I appreciate You.

I thank You for every passing day, how You manage to save me from things I have no idea of, is amazing. All I can do is to be in awe of You.

If every strand of hair on my body had tongues to say “Thank You”… It wouldn’t be enough.

I thank You for the person reading this post.

Amen.

You know, no matter how much you say Thank you to Jesus, you can’t just say it enough.

Please use the comment box to thank Him today for one or two or more things He is doing or has done. Starting “Dear God,”

But then, this is what iThink, what do iKnow ?

“People are often unreasonable and self-centered. Forgive them anyway. If you are kind, people may accuse you of ulterior motives. Be kind anyway. If you are honest, people may cheat you. Be honest anyway. If you find happiness, people may be jealous. Be happy anyway. The good you do today may be forgotten tomorrow. Do good anyway. Give the world the best you have and it may never be enough. Give your best anyway. For you see, in the end, it is between you and God. It was never between you and them anyway.” — Mother Teresa