You have been the best. I choose to start this with you because you were present at the conception of everything. It’s because of your undying devotion to me that I have managed to achieve so much in such a short duration of time.
As a testament to your love, I managed to secure the best education here and even abroad with the mere income of a secondary school teacher. I went to top league schools to get the best education because you not only believed that I deserved it but because you wanted me to live and achieve all dreams that you hadn’t achieved growing up.
It’s because of this immense loyalty to me and my siblings that I managed to be the youngest partner at Ken, Karen and Kamara Advocates. I didn’t think I could achieve such fete at a mere age of 33 years. I am driven, and that drive has been driven by a drive of your own, a drive that never gets out of juice.
I love you. I love you because you are the only person whose love for me has been pure and unadulterated. You have proven to me time and again that even when every other room’s light goes out, I can find solace in the darkness because of you. You have been my pillar of strength, you have prayed for me, you have cried for me and I know there isn’t any other love that can defeat that.
This act will hurt you the most. I know it will because you have dedicated your life to ensure that we, as your children get the best. Unconditionally, you have shown us the best way to achieve anything is through dedication, compromise, hard work and belief in God.
I have followed your teachings and tried my best to go by them step by step. I have failed severally but you have been there to pick me up every time. Without giving up, you have believed that I have the ability and willingness to be better. You believed in my abilities before I ever could.
Thank you for everything.
Much as this is a goodbye note, it is also a confession to where I faltered. You never failed me mum but the world did. In as much as I have a successful career going on for me, deep down I am damaged. I have never had enough self-esteem to face the world head-on.
Success came early for me but it’s not something I anticipated this young. As much as I never lacked anything growing up, the access to a six-figure salary when I hit 30 was something you never quite prepared me for. We always had what we needed. In exact amounts…
You brought us up as a single mum. My sister had a role model, a figure of strength and a mentor through you. What did I have? I had you but I needed a father figure to teach me how to be a man growing up.
Don’t get me wrong, you did the best you could in the circumstances. He had broken you in many ways that one could ever be broken so you had broken ties with him. I understood that part, from your eyes. What I didn’t understand was why you never let me know him. I couldn’t fathom why you couldn’t let me judge the type of a man he was and whether or not he deserved to be in our lives.
You were the adult and I believed that you knew what was best for us. But mum, you were also a woman with a broken heart. How objective could you be when it came to the man who broke your heart? How could you listen to his requests to be a part of our lives when all he symbolized was a pain in unfulfilled promises, broken dreams and a shattered heart?
I never spoke against your decisions but I didn’t like them. I wanted a dad. There are things he could have done with me that you never managed to do. I couldn’t tell you about my first wet dream or my first girlfriend but he could have understood. You didn’t give us that chance though.
In his place, you brought in uncles whose only interest was your generous cheques to help with their struggling families. They were at no time interested in being in my life.
Do you remember how uncle Uche spent lots of time with us when growing up? He is your youngest stepbrother. Do you know that on numerous occasions he molested me? How could you have known that when he was all smiles? Hidden behind his smiles and calling you ‘sis’ was a love for me. Innocent and unable to fight him off, he had taken away my innocence and self-belief.
If dad was there that couldn’t have happened. He would have seen through Uche’s bs and protected me.
I was broken at a young age and you didn’t do a thing about it.
But that’s not the intention of this letter. I managed to overcome the hurt he inflicted on me but the scars came back to haunt me through nightmares times and again. Going through school had been hell as I fought off bullies but you never knew about it because Kinyi always used your makeup to hide my black eyes. I persevered though I never understood how. I guess the strength had been in my genes all through.
I am trying to tell you why I am about to say goodbye to you and the world.
With a good job and a better income, I started looking for satisfaction in material things. Deep down I was and still am empty though. I have done cocaine mum. I have heroin and marijuana. As I write this, a strip of cocaine is waiting for my sniffing. It’s the only thing that gives me life.
It is 11 o’clock on a Monday morning but I am not ready for work yet. I don’t think I will be ever turning up again. I have seen Karen calling numerous times because the hearing of a murder case I am lead counsel was commencing 2 hours ago. I think Judge Owino has postponed the hearing.
As I write this, I am listening to Ambasaddors of Christ Choir… The songs are comforting but I am beyond their comfort. I am too broken to be healed by a mere song.
Do you remember the last time I was home? I wanted to tell you about a girl I had met. One that hadn’t cared about my brokenness or my numerous wealth. Apparently, the girl had always known me from my days in high school. She is a neighbor.
But you never gave me time to tell you about a girl I had cared so much about. You wanted to talk about my career progress, what cases were coming up for hearing and how many years I had to wait to make senior partner.
Well, that girl, also called Karen, was killed in a car crash a week ago in that Salgaa car crash. Did you hear of it mum? The crush? I bet you did. She perished together with our yet to be born daughter. We had already called her Corrie… Just like you mum. But you will never know about Corrie or her mother because they are gone.
I was supposed to be in that car with them but a meeting with some foreign investors had forced me to fly to Nairobi instead. They had used the road because we had driven to Eldoret using a family car, taking the trip to be an opportunity for sightseeing.
I will soon be gone too. Good thing is that at least you will have the memories we shared together. This note might come out as a blame letter but it’s not. It’s a moment to tell you what was going on in my life when you weren’t watching.
My sister will cry. A lot… She was the closest person to me to my death. She understood me through and through and she never at one time judged my awkwardness. I have cried with her, danced with her, sold my ambitions to her… She filled a void, though partly, by the absence of my dad and any friends.
She was the only friend I had until I met Karen.
Kinyi, I am sorry. Find solace in the fact that the best of my years were spent watching over you and making sure that you had the best in a big brother. I know I can’t be replaced in your heart but I know the pain will grow lesser as time goes by. It will never be the same again but it will be better. I promise. Same way I never broke any of my promises to you, this one will be fulfilled too. I will keep watching over you till the day I see you again.
I think I have said it all mum. I don’t want to hurt you more than you are hurting right now but know that I unconditionally loved, respected and admired you. You were the best any sane child could ever ask for in a mother.
Look for dad. I want him to be there as my casket is lowered to the ground. As my dust turns back to dust, I want us to have one last chance to be together as a family. I hope you can grant me one last wish. Karen and our baby is being buried tomorrow (Tuesday 19th), please attend the burial and have one last chance of knowing your daughter in law (yes we were married) and your granddaughter. If you get this letter too late, visit her gravesite and say your goodbyes. Don’t carry Kinyi with you. She will have cried enough.
I don’t have any other wishes for my burial but I want to be cremated as per my earlier wishes.
Karen babie, I will be there with you soon enough. You won’t wait any longer. I know you would want me to stay a little bit longer but this emptiness without you is going to kill me eventually. As such, just allow me to take matters into my own hands.
Mum, you always taught us to be brave. This might seem cowardly but suicide is the only way to which my bravery can be manifested. I am injecting myself with a lethal dose of heroin so that when the autopsy is done, the results will be non-conclusive. That way, nobody will look at you with an accusing or judgy look. It will appear as death through natural causes…
In the times I wasn’t a good son, I am sorry. If I ever disappointed you, know that I always did my best to be someone you are proud of. I cant live without my wife and our daughter. They are the only good thing that I made with my hands. I cant manage to feel alone any longer. The kind of loneliness I have felt since the death of my wife and child is one that I was not molded to withstand.
I am not able to continue living this way…
I can feel the heroin taking effect mum….
Don’t blame yourself. It wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have seen it coming. There’s nothing you could have done.