It was 6.30 in the morning when I heard the irritating, nerve-wracking sound of my alarm clock clanging in my ear. It was the 5th of December 2016 and I needed to be at the hospital by 8.00 am. I woke up tired – I had gone to sleep in the early hours of the morning.
I took a quick cold shower to freshen my body for a new day. I got out the bathroom and dressed in the first clothes I saw. I was already late. The hospital is not far but there were still long queues of cars as people were rushing to work.
I dialled in a panic. The call was diverted to voicemail – no one was picking up. I waited. At 8.00 my phone rang. “Spha, are you ready?” my boss lady asked.
“Yes Mama I’m done,” I answered from my room. I got out of my room reached for the car keys,
“Kade ngikufonela ucingo ungalibambi, kwenzakaleni?” I asked.
“I didn’t sleep at all,” she answered.
We left the massive, fancy house we had recently moved into. I started the car engine and drove through the beautiful, well designed estate, making our way to the hospital. It was only the two of us in the car, nobody was speaking. We could only hear the sound of this beast’s engine I was driving, it was a Range Rover car, my boss’s favourite car.
We arrived at the hospital and we were late.
“Please go to Woolworths and get me isikhwama sama-cosmetics for my husband, I can’t find it,” my boss lady requested.
“Okay, Mama,” I replied. I drove off and left her to attend to the doctors. There was a centre just 2 minutes away. I drove there, got into the shop, got the bag, paid for it and dashed out quickly and drove back to the hospital.
At exactly 9.28 my phone rang. I was in hospital making my way through a long quiet corridor to the ward he was in. I heard a scream of a broken woman in my ear, “SPHAAAA my husband is no more.”
I dropped the call and entered the ward. It was too late. I grabbed her hand and she screamed, “Spha ngizothini ezinganeni zami?” The doctors declared him dead. Immediately my tear glands dried up and I couldn’t cry, I didn’t know what to do. My boss lady was crying her lungs out above the body of my boss, my dad.
I was so confused. I held his hand – it was still warm, he had his perfect smile. I thought he was going to wake up and say, “Kombi,” as he used to call me, but he did not.
It is exactly two years after his passing. It’s still so hard to accept. I remember his last breath because it made me start life all over again, because he left with my job.