Happy birthday, dad! 59 years awesome!

Okay, it’s about that time of the year again where I bust out of my comfort zone and tackle something a bit different from my normal slop. It’s my dad’s birthday. Happy birthday to my dad, Samuel! He turns something something years old today. Scratch that, he’s 59 today! I’m a sagittarius; I love precision.

A few weeks back my dad was rummaging through his backpack because he didn’t have his keys but they were right on the table and I laughed at him and told him he’s 58 and he went like, “What has that got to do with my keys missing?” You see, my dad doesn’t like to be reminded of his age. Neither do I. I mean I’m a chip off the old block. Lol

Is it too soon to say “my old man?” Even though it’s cliche, I seriously don’t know what I would do without my dad! This man has given me the greatest gift anyone could give another person, he believes in me! There are days when I’m over the edge ( like today) and I think I just can’t do this anymore. But he always instills grit, resilience and will power in me, with unfailing optimism that astounds me time and again. He is the finest example of loyalty, commitment and unconditional love in my life.

My dad exudes pride, even though I don’t necessarily fit into the long desired ideal daughter mould sometimes. Mental illness is hell on wheels; more often than not you will lose your cool. During my teenage years before I got my bipolar type 2 diagnosis, I went from hospital bed to hospital bed, one or two of them for surviving suicide. I remember missing school for the whole of second term in senior five. Dad wasn’t always there during all this turbulence and I was very spiteful about it. Today, I understand that he had his own struggles and I could not even see them because I was either too young or too preoccupied with this gargoyle that teaches my brain to have this nasty habit of overriding logic. I have since learnt that nobody is perfect. Dad has loved me to life. Dad has loved me in the best way he knows how to.

If I’m still here navigating life, it’s not because of these “magic” pills I pop daily. It is certainly because of my dad too. I know psychotropics can be a godsend but anyone who has experienced mental illness first hand knows that psychotropics, psychotherapy and an astounding support system is pivotal to recovery.

My dad and I go a long way. We are like best friends but I’m more of his sidekick. We are not very physically identical because I take after my mother. (But he would swear I look like his grandma, the one he named me after). I have his complexion though. Both of us are very passionate word weavers and very established blubber mouths; we can talk till you get vexed. He is a better storyteller, however, and I’m good at just snorting and laughing and cackling. My dad has got jokes for days. Our major pet peeve is bad grammar.

Not to burst your bubble but my dad does not quite understand depression. And that’s okay. He religiously asks me to explain what exactly I feel when I can’t get out of bed or how it feels right after I pop the pills. I try to tell him that depression is like someone throttling you and tearing right through your heart with a knife all at once, because that is the best way I know how to. My trips to the psych hospital have made me understand that there are people who just can’t relate to depression or mood disorders. All they experience is sheer sadness. My dad is part of that lucky throng. He says his greatest heartbreak was when his mother, my grandma, died in September 2015. I saw him shriek as he viewed her casket. My grandma’s death and its effect on my dad remains the biggest formative and painful experience of my life. The other one is pain. The brain. Pain in the brain. Pain in my brain. Mental illness. 9th Wonder of the world. Dying on the inside while still alive. Constantly being sent to a tailspin of grief for no discernible reason.

But by virtue of me being my dad’s daughter, I will always come out ahead. My dad is intelligent and tactfully skilled at survival skills and a pro at getting something for nothing. Well… So am I!

Happy birthday dad!

I profoundly respect you and admire your disposition and your diplomacy to deal with conflicts and complicated situations. It is difficult not to put you on a pedestal. You sure deserve an accolade. ❤️

( I’m sorry you aren’t having a big birthday party this year and I therefore won’t get the chance to bail you out of a botched speech with my own impromptu genius. I mean, I’m the smarter one. Lol).

Love,

Your daughter / grandma / sidekick,

Sharon CheChe.

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GOD BLESS THE DEAD. 🙏

29/11/2018. In memory of our angel baby, my nephew, baby Naem, born sleeping today. He was the most ethereal of them all; perfect even in death. I will never be able to expound on how for the past several months I hoped and prayed he would not just be our rainbow baby but my birthday twin or at least my zodiac twin. I’m eternally grateful he actually turned out to be my zodiac twin. My little sag baby.

Here’s also in memory of our other angel baby, baby Mara, my beautiful niece, born sleeping too, on 02/06/2017. She was the most dainty baby I ever laid eyes on. Born endowed with a headful of black curls, perfect caramel skin and a prominent nose. So graceful in her deep sleep!

And also in memory of our other guardian angel, also perfect on so many levels because God does not make mistakes. Our guardian angel, sibling to Mara & Naem, the baby we carried but never met.

You three are forever cradled in my heart and I like to think that all of you are now in great grandma’s strong arms, basking in heaven’s glory until we get there. (I think I might need an extra pair of arms because too many of my loved ones are up there and when I get there I’m planning to hug all of them and never let go!) Until then, I’ll be here looking after your big brother, baby Yul, our now turned sunshine baby, keeping all your memories alive. The stark reality is that big bro is only six but he can already tell visitors that his baby sister (Mara) “went to be with Jesus.”). I know this pain feels insurmountable but hey I love you four in all seasons, and love is paramount, that’s why we teach big bro to keep your memory alive. Plus he’s the smartest six year old you will ever meet. So much style and grace in one little human. He radiates so much positive energy and his toothless grin improves my mood tenfold.

Your mother? Well she’s absolute dynamite. A bundle of stardust. A powerhouse. A young woman full of utmost grit, admirable tenacity and a very big heart. My big sister who treats me as though she birthed me. Not just me, all of my siblings and everyone she crosses paths with.

Dear Lord, I know You are still at the throne and Your word says You are closest to the broken hearted, wrap Your loving arms around these angels’ mother and bless her with Your peace that transcends all human understanding as we keep trusting You to restore like You did with Your servant Job. Teach us to wait upon You. Just like Your word promises in Isaiah 40:31, may You renew her strength and mount her up with wings like eagles, may she run and not grow weary, may she walk and not faint. 🙏

In memory of Naem, Mara and little guardian angel. In memory of all the babies we carried but never met. In memory of all the babies we held but couldn’t bring home. In memory of all the babies we brought home but didn’t stay. In memory of all the little angels too perfect for this tainted earth! ❤️💔❤️

God bless the dead. 🙏 🙏

Love,

Auntie CheChe.