'The last time I saw her, I was wearing a round neck
top customised ‘Veronica’ and she made a joke about me wearing her...I
promise to keep wearing you 'cos your memory lives on.' … Akinbobola Iteoluwa
Omalicha (culled from Facebook)
Vero', she did wear you today and I remember you were also wearing life inside of you this time last week. Albeit, on a sick bed. Rest in peace dear.
My Saying Goodbye to Vero’ Series, which started yesterday continues with
Joseph Omotayo’s piece. Read and feel free to drop your condolences. The ones dropped so far are appreciated.
***
AND
VERONICA DIED…
By
Joseph Omotayo
Forgive me if I write in ellipsis. My thoughts are
broken and so will I show them. Ellipsis will do.
Memories…
Veronica passed away, recently… I can’t think… I must
write. Veronica will live on… I can’t see it…clearly. My heart is dark now… I
must be the next to the devil. I am the only one insane, presently.
I still can write… it seems I am not touched by this
loss… I am not pulled… I am writing about this… I must be the devil. Writing
about this is devilish… Wait… Am I still writing…? It seems I still have the
strength to order my thoughts. Again, that’s devilish. When you lose someone,
you shouldn’t be as ordered as I am. I don’t think I am moved by this loss. Say
I am evil once again. Yes, I am. I am not human… I am just too collected to be
one. I am not human. I am the devil. My heart is so dark now.
This year… I have seen a death too many. I refuse to
pluralise death. Death is single. A single collected experience. Anyway, death
shouldn’t be my catchword. Scratch out those death words. I hate them. Scorn
death… Veronica did. And she lives. She is still living. And why the tears
anyway? Please, stop. Veronica… I know where she is… Tell her
loved ones I said so… But sorry she wouldn’t graduate with this present set.
She is just smarter than you all… She wrote life and passed away. Her coursemates will all
submit their projects and leave the
four walls of Obafemi Awolowo University, Ile-Ife, to face life… Veronica
is life already… She is smarter.
Wait…! Is this
a tribute? It can’t be. This piece can’t be obituary… I am only recording…
Veronica is my subject.
Veronica…
Ok, agreed. That was the best option you took. But you
should have stayed – say – a day. You stopped me from writing erotica this week.
And I am vexed. You should know how my anger can burn. Just delay the pallbearers
for some secs. Wait a little until my anger is spent? We have some score to
settle. You paused my erotica this week. And I am rattled.
Don’t mistake this… I write for Veronica. Veronica
alone… Don’t mistake the ellipses… They are unlike your watery SMSes; the ones
you send to your fake lovers and admirers; badgering them for airtime vouchers
or sex. Mine are more important. These lines…are not poetry. They may be
poetic. Whatever joor… Veronica is my only concern… My girlfriend won’t be
jealous. Don’t bother… she will understand. For now, I think of Vero.
Vero…
It’s not every day a girl, a damsel, walks up to you and
the only thing she says is how she’s been following you, your writings, on your
blog. Any guy will scamper to make Vero’s acquaintance. Vero strode down to my
side some weeks back and gushed she knows TrueTalk, my blog. I blushed. I was
happy. Vero venerated my writing… Days later, I would ask Oyebanji Ayodele, her
friend, about Vero. I would want to know, from him, when he thought Vero had
been reading my words, on my blog. Oyebanji Ayodele’s responses were not
satisfactory. Or maybe Vero could only have answered them better…
Vero… TrueTalk knows you before I met you physically.
But now, how do I go telling TrueTalk, my blog, you wouldn’t again visit and
contribute to its readership traffic…? This is the hardest part… I can’t.
Remember I said I am not human? Only a human will lose a dear one like you and
still write this long.
Vero… where else now…?
Now, my tears drop. I am moved… Say I am human once
again…because I just cried. My touchpad is slippery with my tears…
I can’t write further… Please, Vero… Wake. Up. And.
Make. Me. Human.
I should know you more than my blog, TrueTalk does.
Death, stop! My neighbours and friends are becoming
fewer. Enough now!
4 comments:
Death, as you said is singular. It induces pain and agony. But, as an Existentialist, I believe that death isn't all bad. Whoever dies, must have held death in a combat; such wins and lives.
In our hypocritical ignorance, we tend to cry and mourn the dead but always too quick to forget them. After the physical death, they even die in our memories - multiple deaths. We should endeavour to make their memory linger.
We are 'choice-less' fools; we live today and die tomorrow. The only choice we have is to either determine to live thereafter or die finally. Our handiworks determine our choice.
Don't let us deceive ourselves, whenever we try to recur her, the situations surrounding her demise and her behavioural attitudes, the puzzling riddle will keep startling our bewilderment. At times, we cannot change that which has been written.
A.Y and Joseph, sirs, you are doing your part to procreate Veronica. Convince others to do same; we shouldn't just shed crocodile tears. Let her live; don't let her die.
I love the tribute earlier posted and love this no less. Well done. Love you bros.
To die is to live!
JOHN LAW
COuld you increase the font of the last 2 posts. I found it very hard to read, Thanks
well crafted condolence.....
Thanks John Law. I really appreciate your follower-ship of the series. Vero' does too. Keep following as there's still more to come.
Thanks for reading Toinlicious. The font of the last two posts have now been increased.
Thanks RAA.
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