Ewomazino Oyibotha

You people want to put me for talk. Let’s have it. My dad was buried the same day he died. My twin and I knew what we wanted for him and we didn’t waste any time. We were his first children, our opinion counted before any family member’s. His elder brother was around when he died but they listened to us. We told them we don’t want him at the morgue and also want him buried in his house that same day. During the burial rites, I never shed one tear. But when everyone went to bed that night, for some reason I was the last to lock the door. I cried bitterly when I got to my room. I remember every single detail of that night. I went to my twin brother’s room. I said, ‘The owner of this house is sleeping outside tonight’. We cried heavily! My twin and I couldn’t say anything to each other; we were soaked in tears, silent tears! I felt bitterness in my mouth. I cried! The next morning, I went outside and saw his grave, I cried again! Every time I go home and see my dad’s grave, I shed one or two tears. It never ends! Imagine Toluwanisings wife? I can understand her POV like madt!