Glued shut

Glued shut. His lids were glued shut. I remember it like it was yesterday. It was not

yesterday of course. It was July 2020. For some reason, I always forget the exact date. It

was on a Saturday though. He was one of the few people who managed to have a

culturally and societally dignified burial under the circumstances of that time. We were

under a global lockdown. Yes, I just admitted that I do not remember the date of my

father’s funeral, but one thing I do remember is that his mouth and eye lids were glued

shut.

My father – the love of my life, the only parent I had left since 2010, a man who tried his

utmost best to raise three young children, a man afflicted with loneliness, sorrow and

infirmity – was a legend in my eyes. He was not perfect, and I would be lying if I portray

the idea of father of the century to you. Yet to me, he was a friend. I respected him yes;

however, he was far more approachable than my mother during my early childhood. I

feared my mom more than God, so it made sense why I considered my dad a refuge

from the fury wrath of his wife. Then, after my mom’s death, my dad became my only

solace. We did not have as many conversations as I would have liked, but I realised that

my father considered us his sanctuary from a weary world and so did I him. He once

said, ‘I would rather stay here with you guys (myself, older sister and younger brother)

than be outside roaming’. He went so far as to thank us for being his children. This – I

believe – he expressed in the deepest agony of his illness a few months before he died.

My dad was a gentle giant. To me, he was and will always be everything.

My father’s sickness was chronic in the entire sense of the word. Throughout the latter

years of my high school career, he was hospitalised so many times and with each

hospitalisation, I thought that was it. At some point, the anxiety of him dying eased and I

thought that he was going to live longer – dare I say forever. In fact, we all embraced his

condition – my siblings more than myself because I did not live at home with them.

Then, 2020 came. Then, he fell and broke his femur. Then, his injury did not heal, instead

deteriorated and he needed to be nursed hand and foot. Then, he needed a hip

replacement in the background of his co-morbidities. Then…Well, then he did

eventually fulfil my biggest fear.

There is a story that I never tell in full detail: I knew that my dad was going to die a week

prior to his demise. In fact, I knew that his death was going to be on the day that my

sister visits him at the hospital and that day would be a Friday. Due to the pandemic, I

had to do my schoolwork online and on that day, I had an online test that I had to

submit. I somehow knew that my sister would be accompanied by some of my relatives

back home from the hospital ‘go re latolela lefu la papa’ (to inform us of papa’s death). I

was going to submit my online test; a car was going to drive into our yard, and we were

about to have our whole world shattered. The entire thing played out scene for scene

how I saw it the week before. With the gift of hindsight, I would say it was God who

showed me. I simply wish He would have given me a heads up on the perpetual
heartbreak that would follow. I do not think I could have prepared enough for it, but I

would have known that from Friday, 10

th July 2020, I would be living with dead pieces of

myself forever.

There is something disorienting about seeing a version of yourself laying mute in a coffin

about to be buried. I got my physical features from my dad. Even my walking stride I

inherited from him. I am proudly my father’s daughter. Therefore, seeing my big ears, my

round nose and my lips on a face that would never look me in the eyes again laying in a

coffin is a picture I will never forget, and I do not wish to forget. Even though, my dad’s

death was, is and will always be painful, I am glad I got to say goodbye. I am glad he was

at peace. I am glad that he was buried in his favourite suit. I am glad he was laid over his

favourite person – my mother. I am glad that I knew him, and I loved him. Eyes and lips

glued shut and all.