Today is the funeral day. It’s the second Saturday since Dad has passed on. The past two weeks have been something else. Mornings where waking up was a brutal reminder of the situation, days where people were just slow motion ghosts, nights of war between grandmother and the uncles about Tabitha, days where Luhle and Tabitha couldn’t say a word, and days where they seem forgotten for a while what has happened, only to remember when people start singing.
The temple is packed; there are family members and relatives from Durban, Pietermaritzburg, some from Howick, and some from Ladysmith. Tabitha’s and Dad’s colleagues, friends and everyone is here. Luhle has hoped to see Tabitha’s own family, just once in her life since she’s never seen even one of them, not even in their wedding, but none is here.
The first WhatsApp message this morning in Luhle’s phone came from her Mother,
Sorry babes, I won’t come. Got to be in my boy’s coding competition. Good luck burying your dad
What on earth kind of a mother is this one? Luhleβs asked herself.
The service has started, Tabitha Is sitting in the front row in between her friend Portia and Luhle. The rest of the row is occupied by family. In the fourth row sits Luhle’s friends, in similar black and mustard outfits. Looking like angels sent to comfort with their looks.
Luhle also has her black pencil dress on, and a mustard scarf that her friends have given her to show they are all together, and a black fur cardigan. Tabitha is wearing a white shirt, tucked in her black A-Line skirt floral on the hem. It stays perfectly in her tiny waist. Her shape is almost like Luhle’s. The black fascinator sits beautifully on her braided hair; her adorable face appears slightly through it’s net.
Along the program, the MC calls on Luhle to speak for the daughters. Tabitha squeezes Luhle’s hand before letting her go. Then Luhle goes to the front. She stands, and holds the microphone.
“Umh…” She clears her throat, her eyes run straight to her father’s picture among the bunch of flowers. “I’d like to greet The Holy Spirit our comforter, the pastors, family and everyone else who is here. As the MC has said, I am Luhle. My father’s only daughter. A few days ago I was standing like this somewhere, trying to make possible the surprise I had promised My Dad, and today, I stand in his funeral. Like this” she lifts her hand to wipe tears away with her tissue.
Her friends stand, the four of them at the same time, in their black and mustard. They walk to the front and then they all stand behind her. “I told him the night before, I told him that I had a surprise for him, but he said it might be too late. None of us knew what he was talking about. Why couldn’t he just say it? Just to cuddle with him for the last time! Well, it’s too late now indeed. This man was such a lover. He would wake up in the morning and prepare water for me when Mom is not feeling well. He cooked with me and his wife. He made us feel safe and protected, and loved. Actually, I seem to be wasting time because, there’s a lot I can say but I’d need a week or two, to say it all. One of many things I’m so grateful for, is that he taught me how to depend on the Holy Spirit completely. In days like this one, I know where to turn to. And I’d be very unfair not to mention this; today I know what Love in marriages should look like, because of how he has been treating my Mom, My stepmother. He shaped my world. Today I celebrate you Nqoboka, Mnguni kaManekwane, Skhangane esakhanga amadoda, Luvuno, Sokotshane, Mzwili! You are in Abraham’s chest, in Paradise.”
She steps back, one of her friends begins a song, the whole temple sings along. There are episodes where people scream and shout in pain, like that one moment when Tabitha’s letter was read by Portia her friend. Everyone who knew Dad, knows that what he and her wife had, was something else, too good to be in this world.
In the graveyard Tabitha has a minor heart attack. She is given water with sugar, and they make air for her. The day is long and totally too sad, too painful.
At night when half of the relatives who have been here since the day, are gone, Luhle sleeps on Tabitha’s bed with her. For days until the first week is over. MaKhumalo the grandmother is still here, even as though it’s been a week after the funeral. Luhle loves her, but not when she abuses Tabitha. It’s not fair for her Dad’s spirit. If her dad was still here, he would bang the table and stand up for his wife when he can’t take it no more. Tabitha may be something else, but a murderer! Impossible!
“You killed my son, how do you explain a successful surgery, then a day after he’s been discharged, he dies?” These have been the words from MaKhumalo.