Today's Gracie's funeral and I can't bring myself to cry for her or even feel any sadness. She would have disapproved of overt displays of emotional distress. She's probably frowning at my younger siblings and their spouses who were all weeping copiously. My wife and children were huddled together and trying hard not to weep, they'll miss Gracie so much. She had a bond with them that I can't quite understand.
However my eyes are red and brimming with tears. I am weeping for my father.
He became the light of my life, partner in crime, confidante, biggest cheerleader from that morning he regained consciousness after fainting at the sight of me. He quickly rallied and jumped to the job of father. Our close resemblance in every way helped cement the burgeoning bond we forged that morning in a screened porch.
He helped nurse my mother through the grueling bouts of chemotherapy for my mother's illness. They subsequently decided to get married to enable me obtain the stability of a family. They probably even believed that story but my twin siblings were born seven months after the wedding- those miracle children born to a mother who'd undergone chemotherapy and a father who'd had mumps as a child. Besides I was fourteen, I'd gone past the need for a two parent family.
My parents lived together until one morning we found them cold and dead in each other's arms after nearly fifty years of marriage. We heard rumours that it was mutual suicide, the autopsy didn't reveal anything untoward so that's that.
Today we bury them together, with their children, grandchildren and great grandchildren weeping in sorrow and filled with loss. The love they shared has grown into a massive tree it's shade comforted and protected us.
This is the story of my family and a love story, the love between a man and his son.
Special thanks to Otunba Pharm Gbenga-Martins for his extensive contribution to part one of this series.