Pieces of Me

I am excited to share pieces of me on my 3rd blog post just so you get acquainted to Likha ~ no take aways just raw facts about me. Comment below on how well you know me.

The Woman Steeped in Hot Water

Life is interesting. We learn and discover ourselves at every given moment. So I’ve been tested (I know we all have🤣hahaha) and appreciate the strength that I have picked up along the way (can you see the muscle build up?). As I sit and think about it, it truly fulfils the saying by the former First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt “A woman is like a tea bag, you never know how strong she is until she gets into hot water” I am that “bush tea” babe, that's over steeped. I am not complaining, I am actually grateful that I got to duck in the boxing ring of life.

Despite it all, we are still standing. Many other people have also gone through their own stuff (we know everybody has a story right) and it has gotten so pronounced now that we are going through the pandemic and all. (Who would have thought that one would add a pandemic as part of their life story?).

Our challenges, pains, disappointments and traumas don’t define us & should not define us. What stands out and make us special is our ability to shake it off, tap into discovering and re discovering elements of who we are over and over. That should point us into what we truly desire and who we want to be.

At one point I thought and believed that I was that bag lady with heavier than the worlds load and everybody sees through me. I would sit in church listening to the Priest’s homily and think he is pointing out at me. Pity when your mind plays you tricks like that, that’s all you attract, and that’s all I was faced with.

---

I am a night owl. If you want anything done, drop it off by me towards midnight, that time my imagination is at work. All the glorious dreams and plans gets activated when most are in lalaland, by the next day I am so exhausted from sleep deprivation that the required energy to execute them is all lost in the air.

---

I don’t own a television and haven’t for close to 12 years. I am very old school and very hopeless with music and movies. I don’t even know what Beyoncé and Ciara sings. I don’t know what’s on the circuit. Thanks to lockdown I got to taste of what Netflix is all about.

The Guccis

I still wake up in the middle of the night and watch my Gucci bags sleep and get filled with great joy, honour and pride. So much love running through my veins. I am still awed with their presence in my life and thank the heavens for trusting me with such a task that comes with no manual! Oh motherhood.

Two of my dearest people passed on. My granny Mankai ✝️13/09/2008 and my Dad ✝️10/05/2009. Bless their souls. First time I ever spoke at a funeral was at my gran, it was a beautiful moment celebrating her well lived 90 years around the globe. When my Dad decided to go home, i wasn’t ready. I was in denial. I confirmed his body at the morgue. It was the most painful numbing experience. It haunted me for months. That’s when I realised and accepted that I am a grown woman.

The first day he beat me at boggle, we had visited him in hospital. He was in excruciating pain, but hit it and still kept a straight happy face though teary. I was getting married in a few months and asked him who is going to walk me down the aisle. He replied “Ke Modimo” and looked away, tears rolling down his pretty fragile face. At that moment I knew he’d soon be gone. As sad as I knew my dad was dying, I thought he’d spare us some time for my wedding day. I don’t know if I expected him to jump out of bed, suit up, walk me down the aisle and jump back to the hospital bed.

He missed the walk down the aisle

Two weeks later, on a weekend leading to his demise, I woke up very edgy and offbeat. I had a bad dream on Friday and the Sunday of Mother’s Day 2009 my Dad breathed his last. Stomach cancer snatched him from us...just like that.

It’s a long painful story. To this day I still get emotional and angry about it and writing won’t do it justice, perhaps over a cup of tea or a good red wine. I’ve learned that we will always mourn the people we lose; we will always miss them. We never get over a person’s death, let alone a parent, but we do get used to it. I think about them a lot. I still talk to them and share my highs and lows with them.

Mom and I this past weekend

dad’s passing took a toll on my mom, it’s been 12 years and she still doesn’t ease up talking about him. They would have been married for half a century. Mom turned 75 on the 3rd Oct and my Dad would have been 80 on the 8th Oct. In celebration, we took a mom and daughter shotleft and I only realised then, that mom had forgotten it was her husband’s birthday. She mumbled “I lost the paper I write birthdays on” and instead reminded me (more than 10 times and I’m not exaggerating) of another relative’s death that I told her about earlier. “Did you hear of so and so’s death…Ke hore batho ba tsamaya ba re sia “ Only then, it dawned to me that perhaps the pain still runs deep. We mourn differently and she chose to bury herself in the dark. I wish she could talk about it and embrace the pain. I believe that it’s only in embracing the discomfort and darkness of pain that we get to see the light, because there is always light. It’s shining so bright. Though it may not be the way the light shone before, but it’s still there.

Until next time...Its a Wondrous Wednesday

Sealed with ❤

Likha~(biso)