Reflections: Lessons about Love from my Parents

After my many breakups, (trust me there have been many — maybe more than Black Chyna as of late lol) mommy and I will have a heart to heart conversation. Customarily, she will offer soothing and encouraging words. She then will remind me of what love is from the biblical standpoint and the lessons I should extract from the breakups. I have trademarked our post break up conversations by now. (Perhaps, I can start selling it on Amazon.) While she has told me what love is, I think a better teacher has been observing her interaction with my father especially in moments of sickness. I refer to those moments with the fundamental question below:

Can you do for me when I cannot do for myself?

I can’t recall the year, but I remember validly my daddy being in the hospital. I remember how I felt. I was nervous. My spirits were troubled! You would have thought someone offered me Ghana Jollof for life. I received the call that he was being treated at our local hospital. My friends often accused me of driving like a grandpa. The truth is I really can’t see, and I can’t afford speeding tickets. Also, my response is usually, what is the rush? However, on this day, there was a rush. I wasn’t sure how much time he had left. I made the drive two-hour drive to be at his bedside in Pennsylvania in record time. I received the hospital room number from my sister, but I didn’t need it to find out where my parents were. I just followed the smell of egusi soup until it led me to the room. There my mommy was enjoying her soup and garri. My mother is fond of eating Nigerian food wherever she finds her in. There’s no shame in her game and why should there be? It is my culture, she would say when asked why are you eating this here?

Daddy was lying on his hospital bed, and mommy was right next to him. I could tell that she was sleep-deprived yet she had plenty of energy to take care of him or to at least, be present for him when he needed her the most. While my daddy was at the hospital, my mommy literally moved in with him. She would sleep on the couch in his hospital room despite having a bad back. She took showers at the hospital, went to work from there, called him when she got to work, came to check on him at lunch then returned again in the evening to spend time with him. She repeated this routine as long as my daddy was in there. My mommy is clearly a superhero, and you can see why I love her as much as I do. I remember multiple times asking her to take a break so one of us can step in and help and she said, “This is what I signed up for when I married your father. This is my load to carry. You all should go ahead with your lives.” Of course, that statement did not sit well with me. I attempted to change her mind, but she would not budge. You think you are stubborn until you encounter the stubbornness of Nigerian. It may be equal to Trump’s stubbornness on steroids multiplied by infinity.

On the other side of the loving interaction, I had also observed how my daddy cared for my mother when she was ill, which answered the question, can you do for me when I can’t do for myself? My father would schedule her doctor’s appointment, check on the status of her prescription and then ask me to go pick them up. Most African kids remain errands boy no matter their age. He would read the instructions of the prescription to save her the hassles. Paying attention to those little things. He would also remind her or often ask if she has taken her medication as prescribed by the doctor in addition to ensuring that she has eaten. Even with age and various challenges that come with the aging process, the way love is communicated, or the acts of love is expressed is different. Their limbs may not be as mobile or as agile as before, but the function of their heart is consistent and intentional.

Additionally, the intent and the roots of unconditional love remains fertilized. We often joked that my daddy should have been a chemist instead of a historian. His obsession with the Dr. Oz Show has led to various creations of concoction and weird dishes that ONLY he enjoys but also expects us to enjoy. If he was in Nigeria, I am sure many would have labeled him a witch doctor. Over the years, thankfully, he has not been able to convince us to partake in his healthy poisons. One such poison is oatmeal, prune juice, blueberries, cumin, and raw onions. Aside from that, his intention is always to show that his cares with his gestures. He would often make my mommy her favorite tea no matter how he is feeling physically. The tea comes out perfect each time. Sometimes he would make the tea even when it is not needed lol.

After seeing that daddy was okay, I decided to make my way back to Maryland although most Nigerians think I live anywhere but in Maryland. I turned off the music and listened to my thoughts as I drove two hours down I-95. I was back to driving like a grandpa. While driving, I kept asking myself what it means to love. Each time, I came back to a quote that I heard when I was joining Alpha Phi Alpha Fraternity Incorporated better known as a cult among Nigerians in the fall of 2007. My big brother, Victor Kakulu, said (I am paraphrasing here):

Brotherhood is to be willing and able even when you are not willing or able. Over the years, I have gone in the opposite direction of what Melania Trump did to Michelle Obama’s speech. I changed a few words around and applied the same line of thinking to love. I gleaned vital points from watching the interaction with my parents during those difficult moments.

Love is to be willing and able if when you are not willing or able. I believe it speaks to the root of unconditional love. It also asks the question, can you do for me when I cannot do for myself? Over the years, when I am in an impasse in the faltering relationship, it becomes the question that helps me move on. Additionally, I had watched my parents show each other unconditional love even in moments when I knew that they weren’t willing or able.

What does this mean for me?

It was only recently that my father and I said love you to each other. Recent as in a few days ago. Age has a way of softening the African man’s heart. Despite the lack of ‘I love you,’ during the first 32 years of my life, I never doubted that he did. He expressed his love for us through his actions. In my earlier relationship with western-minded babes, while I functioned in the mindset of the typical African man, I struggled to say those words yet my actions were consistent with “I love you,” sentiments. I just wasn’t saying it then. My father and mother are very actions oriented. However, as it relates to love, they often expressed that love is not about I love you and the tingling feeling that we tend to think in our kidneys and below, as a Nigerian artist was once sung. To me, love is accountable and intentional. Love answers the questions:

Can you do for me when I can do for myself? More importantly, Can you do for me even when I cannot do for myself?

Chinomso D. Nwachuku

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Chinomso is the founder of TalkNaija.org