I was 23 years old and, in the university, when news got to me that both of my parents had died. The last real memory I had of them was at the morning of their funeral. Their caskets were in the center aisle. My mother looked so peaceful and rested in her casket. When I looked down at my father, his face had been positioned in an almost frown. He looked angry as always. My sister was 20 years old by then and I remember hearing her cry uncontrollably, it almost broke me to tears. I was determined not to cry and I remained strong. I had already cried enough and had no more tears left to shed.
I held myself together as the priest conducted the service till, they had been buried. My sister and I found ourselves alone for the first time after everyone had left and we were devastated. Being the oldest child, it dawned on me the challenge of being responsible for my sister’s upkeep. I hadn’t considered a day in my life where I was going to be the grown up in the room helping my younger sister through her grief, while at the same time, working through my own. I didn’t know what to do at that point. I remember closing my eyes and crying behind my confusion. Dave, it felt impossible for me to even pray because I was overwhelmed by the sorrow and despair.
I knew I and my sister desperately needed consolation from God, but we didn’t know what to say to Him. I in particular was too heartbroken to even think about the right words to pray with. What I was grateful for though, was the fact that our mother taught us early in life how to have a praying heart and soul which was turned to God. So, in a time like that, we could remember every now and then, that our actions and deeds; even in our inability to have the right words to pray, our tears and sorrows, our hurts and disappointments; our fears could all be transformed into the perfect communion and communication with God. All we had to do was cry and God understood.
The first week after their burial, I took on a responsibility, while tough, seemed the most obvious and unambiguous; I had to ensure my sister’s basic needs were tendered to. I made sure she ate, even if it meant a bite or two. I cooked, did laundry, cleaned the bathrooms, stocked the kitchen with some of her preferred foods that required little or no preparation. I became her dad all of a sudden, doing the biggest job on my own. Taking good care of a grown woman is a responsibility that does not show up on any man’s resume. I learned to pour all the love and its emotions I never knew I could give, all the support into my sister so she could become an astounding young woman.
I feel very proud of myself right now because my sister recently got married and raised a toast in my honor. She believes I challenged her preferences in men. She used to be all about looks and charm. If a man had a handsome face, an attractive physique, made enough money and could make her laugh, she would be allured to that. But 14 years after the death of our parents, she’s come to realize that an incredibly handsome man who is irresponsible and unreliable is not an attractive man. A rich man who makes promises and plans but not follow through on them is not an attractive man. Her tribute and appreciation of me was basically to say that, I was the type of man who showed up when I said I would.
I took charge when all hope seemed lost. I did not sit back and let things happen, I made things happen for us. Aside encouraging her daily to express her true feelings and emotions, I stood by her as she began to move forward from grief to, ultimately, pursuing her dreams in life. I was driven and motivated to make sure we were one step ahead each and every day and this, according to her, inspired her to be the best version of herself. She is now married to a man who also has the ability to perceive her emotional state and respond calmly to her needs. My wife is also the type of woman who knows how to manage not just her own emotions, but can discern that of my own. Thank you, David, for this platform that is allowing some of us guys to look beyond the surface and pour our hearts out.
Image Credit: Sherman Trotz
