INSOMNIA

Chapter two

I writhed and turned alot as I slept. I was asleep, I think I knew that, but I couldn't see anything. It felt weird, the sleep, no images just a blank space as though I had a black cloth wrapped tightly around my face. And then there was that headache; it felt like, with each breath, a hammer was been lowered on my head and then stepped on.

I woke up gasping, sweat pouring over my body. I looked around; I was in my bedroom with no memory, whatsoever, of how I got here. I stood still, listening, thinking What was I missing–and then, oh, no, she's gone. I buried my head in my palm, not weeping, just moaning painfully.

I think my sounds attracted Mother because she was in the room in moments.

*snap* She turned on the lights and I winced. I looked up at Mother, I could tell she'd been crying, but I had the feeling she was crying for me, her son, losing a loved one at such an age. Something she was all so familiar with; when Father died.

"Look at your body, you are sweating so much," She said, her voice choked with concern.

I shifted my gaze between Mother and my soaked shirt, saying nothing.

"Oya, take off your shirt." She said, helping me out of my shirt–it was my childhood all over again. She dumped the drenched shirt in the laundry hamper, and switched on the fan. I relaxed as I felt the cool breeze stir around the room, Angela hated sleeping with the fan on. I became restless, squirming where I was. How exactly does one deal with a loss?.. I made a mental note to find such book. I still hadn't uttered a word.

Mother was watching me intently, obviously worried. This wasn't her lively boy. I could read the expression on her face, so I thought, let me do us both some good, and I tried to stand on my feet.

One moment I was scrambling awkwardly on my feet, the next I was down on my knees, my head falling off..damned headache, and my back hurt, what the hell?. I really need to get that book.

Mother let out a short gasp and reached for me. I think I smiled. I sure am handling this perfectly, I thought wryly. Mother smiled too, a faint smile, an I-understand-how-you-feel smile. Love you Mom.

"Sit still let me get you some drugs." She helped me to my feet and sat me on a couch by the wall.

She came back a minute later with two caplets of acetaminophen and a glass of water.

I stared at the drugs in my hand, surely she doesn't expect me to take this.

"Take it!" Mother snapped. I was behaving like a big baby.

The drugs helped. I managed to stand without tripping, and the hammer in my head had changed to soft pillows. There was still a throbbing, though.

****

It was a dark day for me, the day of the funeral, and it was not because it rained– alot by the way– but simply because my life was over. I had now taken a new title; widower.

Mother, bless her, handled the funeral preparations. Planning a funeral, to me, simply meant accepting that my wife was really gone. Maybe this was all a dream, like those dreams that seem so real, and seem to last forever and then you wake up from it. Yeah–this could all be a dream, a really bad dream.

But, why then was I in a black suit, surrounded by vaguely familiar faces, listening to Rev.Simon(Mother's Reverend) who was going on and on about life after death, and a better place and the pain ultimately going away? Shows what he knows, I scoffed.

This was as real as it gets. She's in there, I thought looking at the brown Casket on the ground. Is she?

I bowed my head, my left hand in my pocket, and my right hand adjusting the dark sunglasses over my eyes(Mother's idea). I was trying to look strong, and failing at it.

I think I heard my name. I turned, fifty or so pair of eyes glued to me. They wanted me to say something, but I hadn't the faintest idea what. Mother came to my rescue.

"Do you want to say a few words, honey?" She asked. I looked up at her, and then the memories.

" ..aw..that's so pitiful. Will, if I ever die please don't go crying and throwing earth on my casket, or saying all those pathetic last words."

We both had a good laugh about that. Now it's real.

"No." I said, and turned away. She wasn't dead, so why should I go saying last words?

I didn't watch when her body was lowered into the earth. I was suddenly angry at the world, at life, why should she have gone? she was so young, so good.

I looked up into the sky; you're supposed to be fair, to be just. But that's all fad, isn't it? A just God my foot, I spat.

I walked over to where my little girl, who was confused at why all those people were crying, sat with some relations and I carried her. I damn well yanked her out of the hands of some second cousin I'd never met before. She was mine, my own. No one has the right to take her, not even death–oh she looked so much like her mother. Everyone at the funeral kept their eyes locked on me as I held on to my daughter tightly, she was all I had left. I was really the picture of a grieving husband, but not the typical one. I might as well have gone nuts with the way they stared at me.

I placed her on her feet and, holding her hands, led her to the car. I didn't cry that day. I didn't have to. Somewhere, deep in my mind, I felt that going through those charades–crying, and last words– meant I'd really lost her. I wasn't ready to accept that just yet. I was wound that tight.

Amy looked at me and asked:

"Daddy, did mommy go to heaven?" I felt my heart squeeze and then shatter.

"Yes baby, she's in heaven now." I looked up, I hope.

"Why did she go, Is she mad at us?, Can I go with her?"

"No! I–uh–I mean No sweetie," I said, shocked at my own voice, "You'll stay here with me, won't you ?"—I was sincerely scared.

She nodded, " Yes Daddy, but I'll miss mommy. But, I'm glad you're still here with me."

" Me too."

****

THE WEATHER was getting increasingly bad, I drove slowly, thinking of the future. I looked at Amy as she slept peacefully in the back seat and I made up my mind never to let her go through such pain as I did. I just didn't know how I planned to do it.

I drove the car into the compound and parked under a shade of trees. I sat still, motionless, deep in thoughts. The compound was full of people, sympathizers. I hated those.

I must have received about a hundred hugs and handshakes. Everyone I knew was there, and then there was the people that I didn't even know(they seemed to grieve the hardest). Even the guys at the office, I was touched.

Felix, my best friend and partner at the office was waiting for me. We'd been best friends since Fresh man year at the Federal University . He had known my wife almost as much as I did. He walked over to my car and opened the door, he looked genuinely concerned, what with me storming out of the funeral. I could see real pain in his face, unlike those mock sympathizers out there.

"How' you handling this, brother?," He asked as he literally pulled me out of the car. He really shouldn't have asked. I looked shaken up.

I shrugged my shoulders, and opened the back door to get my daughter.

"I'll be fine"–I said. I didn't believe that.

Felix looked at me and could tell that I wouldn't be fine for at least another couple of months.

"I could arrange a leave for you at work you know, I'll put in a word for you"

"No!" –I nearly yelled, and then smiled, "I'll be just fine, I don't need a leave right now."

I really didn't know what I'd do with myself in the months to come, so a leave for me was definitely not an option, I needed the distraction of work.

"Are you sure?"

I sighed, "Yes."

A lady walked up to me and took the sleeping child from my arms, that was relieving–I hadn't really realized how big my girl had grown. I looked up at the sky, the clouds were dark and heavy with precipitation; it would rain any moment now, something I would have enjoyed normally, but now the thought of falling water made me depressed.

"Goodbye for now, you'll always be in here."– I said, touching my chest. God, I was cheesy, but I meant it.

Felix kept watching me almost near the point of tears. He probably thought of the way I stared blankly at the sky without blinking. Didn't heavy grievers have a high suicide rate? He shivered as the thought ran through his mind. No, I won't let that happen, I'll make sure I'm around him as often as I can. He later told me this was his thought at that point.

"How about a drink?"– He asked me,

"Sure, I could use one"–I said.