I am not a writer and I never intend to be one, but I really wish to express my feelings to as many as possible. So, pardon my flaws and poor punctuation.
As I write this to every reader out there, I must tell you my exact state of mind, which is a mixed feeling of extreme joy but with grief of what I witnessed with what my Dad passed through. I could only wish my Dad approved of what I am doing right now, because I believe he should spread this gospel in person.
My Dad is the most lovable person I have ever known since I was growing up. He had shown us love and care in almost every area. It’s only a bit awkward to see him change over time from the usual “flexing” guy to a more reserved and cautioned person. The exact time it all started, I can’t tell precisely but one thing I am sure of is that it was around May/June, when my
Dad returned home from a meeting with his club members, most of whom were politicians.
There was no power supply that night and though the weather wasn’t too hot, but my Dad requested that we turned on the power plant so as to power the air condition (AC), since he was really sweating that night. The next morning, he complained about a slight headache before setting out for his business, but Mum only suggested that he took a pain killer or have much rest. But my sister and I echoed at once, “hang over “, since that was Dad’s usual language whenever he felt such way, early in the morning. My mum was never in support of his drinking habit but she soon grew tired and let him be, since it has become a part of him. I could remember vividly one night when both parties got into an intense argument over the intake of alcohol and mummy threatened to pack out of the house, if he doesn’t put an end to it. She eventually stayed back majorly out of concern and love for us, the children.
My Dad’s profuse sweating at night and occasional morning headaches no longer seem strange anymore, as we are now accustomed to turning on the “gen” late at night whenever there is no power supply and he had in his wardrobe a handful of painkillers at his beck and call, whenever the need arose.
On June 13, 2012, he returned home with a slight injury at the right leg, at a region very close to the ankle. He said the sharp edge of half cut thick weeds in his site had pierced him and left the injury. It was only surprising to see that the injury refused to heal up despite several attempts and medication.
During this period my Dad would fall sick on any slight change in weather, food and mosquito bites. He gets irritated easily and would throw up on most occasions, and he then demanded my mum increase the quantity of pepper in her meals and soup.
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