Awakening Love: Part Five(1)
Read Part One here
Read Part Two here
Read Part Three here
Read Part Four here
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KOBINA
Akosua was silent during the entire drive to the hospital, her face pale. Kobby took worried glances at her face every so often, and it took all the self-control he had in him–and the memory of his father’s passing–to stay under the speed limit.
When Akosua had announced that her brother had been rushed to the hospital, Kobby had immediately called her father back and received grim news–Joojo had been involved in a ghastly accident, and rushed to a nearby hospital, where he lay, comatose.
When they arrived at the small, private hospital Joojo had been taken to, she practically flew out of the car. The nurse at the front desk looked flustered as Akosua demanded to know where her brother was being treated.
“Madam, please calm down, I’ll find out for you,” she said, as she flipped through the large stacks of paper on her desk.
“His name is Joojo Mensah Obeng. My father is also here with him. He’s tall, and he wears glasses. He’s always supposed to wear them, but whenever I tell him to, he doesn’t mind me. He doesn’t listen!” Akosua burst into hysterical tears, and the nurse looked helplessly at Kobby. He took Akosua into his arms, guiding her back to the chairs in the waiting room, where other visitors unsuccessfully tried to pretend they weren’t staring at the two.
As they sat down, Akosua pulled herself out of his embrace, shaking. “Kobby, I’m afraid. I’m so scared. I know I’m supposed to be strong in the faith. I’m not supposed to feel like this, but what if Joojo never wakes u–”. She hiccupped before she was able to finish her sentence. Her makeup was streaked, and her carefully coiffed hair had long since fallen into disarray. Kobby took a tissue from her handbag and carefully wiped the tears from her eyes, taking most of her makeup with each swipe. He was silent for a while when he was done. Then he spoke.
“Whenever I am afraid, I will trust in You. Do you know that Scripture?” Akosua shook her head, and another tear fell onto her nose. He continued. “David wrote that when he was running away from Saul. David was scared. And that wasn’t the only time he expressed his emotions. Psalm 42:3, I think, says my tears have been my food day and night, while they continually say to me, ‘Where is your God?’
“You know who else felt sorrow? Tiredness? Jesus. In the books of Mark and Matthew, you see Him say His soul is exceedingly sorrowful, even unto death.”
He sighed, and looked into the distance. “I remember in the days following my dad’s accident, when he was still in the hospital. Everyone told me to be strong, for my mum and my little siblings. And I tried to be. I never cried, not once while we were in that hospital, or after. I tried to be strong, and it didn’t do a thing.
“Akosua, Pastor Kunle told me during counselling that strength is not found in not feeling. I tried doing that, and it drove me to alcoholism, and deep despair. David said when I am afraid. The feelings came, most certainly. But it was what happened after that mattered. He decided, consciously, to put his trust in God, in spite of how he was feeling. It was from that place, that he could then be strong, and declare, In God I have put my trust, what can man do to me?
“When Jesus felt despair, he went to pray. You don’t have to be strong on your own Akosua. It’s okay to be honest with God, He actually prefers it. In Psalm 51:6, David says that God wants truth in our inner man.”
He took both of her hands into his. “I know paa sε it sounds like I’m preaching. But I know you, and I know that when you see Joojo and your family you’ll put on that mask of yours and pretend that you’re okay. That’s what I don’t want you to do. Be honest. Be vulnerable. Tell God the truth, and let Him fill you with His strength.”
Akosua sniffled and laughed–a shaky, teary laugh. “Seriously, Pastor Kobina. When did you get so wise?”
He lifted the corner of his mouth. “I was blessed to have a good teacher.”
She rolled her eyes, and smiled, though her eyes were still watery. “Oga, now is not the time for flattery.”
“But who said I was talking about you? Is it not Pastor Kunle I was referring to?”
He yelped as she landed a solid blow to his right bicep, but grinned after she let out a genuine laugh. “You this boy ehn.”
He rolled his arms, pretending that the punch hadn’t hurt too much.
“Let’s pray,” she said. They bowed their heads. “Father–” Her voice broke, and another tear rolled down her cheek. Kobby continued.
“Father, we thank You for today. We thank You for Your grace, for it is by Your grace that we live and breathe and have our being. Lord, we pray and commit our brother Joojo into your hands. Lord, keep him. Lord, strengthen us oh God. Help us to lean on You.”
“God,” whispered Akosua. “I’m scared. Lord, I’m so, so scared. God, you know how much I love my brother, and I feel so helpless right now. I wish there was something I could do, physically, to help. This is so hard.”
More tears streamed down her face, dripping onto the skirt of her dress. She clenched her fists in her lap and took a deep breath.
“Lord, help me. Help me to be strong. I feel like I’m falling apart, Father. Please–please, Lord. Let my trust be completely in you. I love you Lord. Thank You.”
They both lifted their heads, and Akosua smiled tentatively at Kobby, before leaning her head onto his shoulder. A nurse walked over to them then.
“Your brother’s room is in the ward not too far from here. Follow me, please, I’ll show you where to go.”
| ~ | ~ | ~ |
Kobby watched in from the doorway as Akosua went to sit with the rest of her family by Joojo’s bed. He was covered in bandages, and badly bruised. Kobby would have feared him dead, but for the subtle rise and fall of his chest. The scene reminded him of his own experience with his father, and he stepped away to regain his composure.
| ~ | ~ | ~ |
“Da, please don’t go yet, we’re not ready. Mummy needs you. I need you, Da,” a younger Kobby sat at his father’s bedside, holding the comatose man’s hand in his. His chest was tight, and his eyes watered with tears he refused to shed.
“Daddy, I’ve been strong. I have not cried. I’ve taken care of Mummy and the little ones whilst you’ve been sick, but I can’t continue. Who will teach me to drive and take me to get my driver’s licence? Who will show me what course to study in University if you go, Da? Who will I introduce my future wife to? Who–” Kobby’s voice broke slightly, as he continued with his diatribe to the man who lay besides him. “Who will teach me how to be a good father?” he whispered.
His mother walked in then, looking haggard. She had hardly left her husband’s side, choosing to take her meals there, and sleep in a little cot that had been brought into the ward. She only left to shower–and that hadn’t happened all too often in the three weeks they’d been in the intensive care unit.
She didn’t say a word as she sat on the other end of the bed. She took his left hand, and began to quietly hum a hymn under her breath, tears rolling down her cheeks as she did so. “Me wura, nyane wai. Charles, please. Please wake up.”
| ~ | ~ | ~ |
As he walked and reminisced on the morbid days around his father’s passing, Kobby bumped into an older woman who looked harried.
“Sorry,” she said, as she tried to balance the many bags she was carrying, only to end up dropping two on the floor. She bent to pick it up at the same time as Kobby, and they butted heads. As he stood up, he looked into her face and felt an odd sense of deja vu, as though he had met her before. Before he could investigate the feeling further, she turned away.
“Sorry, again,” she repeated. “I’m not normally this clumsy.”
“That’s fine, no problem. That’s life for you. Do you need help carrying all of that though?” he asked, gesturing to her load.
“Would you be so kind? God bless you!” She sounded ready to cry.
“Where are we going?” asked Kobby, following her as he shouldered three of the five bags she was holding. He would have taken them all but she had insisted on at least carrying the two smallest ones.
“I’m looking for Room 7, Ward 15,” she said, as she followed him.
“Room 7? That’s where my girlfriend’s brother is. Are you related to them?”
The woman was silent for a few seconds before she replied hesistantly.
“Yes. I am.”
“Oh okay, I can see the resemblance,” replied Kobby, as they arrived at the door of Joojo’s room. “Are you an aunt? Akosua always talks about her multitude of aunties in Takoradi.”
He laughed as he pushed the door open for the woman to enter. She stood frozen, as if unsure of whether to enter or not.
“I’m not their aunt,” she whispered, stepping slowly into the room, whose occupants had turned their heads to face the door when Kobby had opened it.
As Kobina followed the lady he had met into the room, he noted the eerie silence that settled into the room as each person stared at the woman he had brought along.
Just before he could say anything to break the stillness, Akosua stood and breathed one word.
“Mom?”
Read Part Five(2) here
GLOSSARY
paa sε — very well
oga — sir
Me wura, nyane wai — my lord, wake up.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
I know, it’s been a while since I last published an update; don’t beat me please😭. I’ve had this in drafts for a while (like a month), and it was supposed to be longer, but I’ve split it because I think this is a beautiful place to put a cliffhanger, y’know?
Anyways, I pray this chapter blesses you. It’s one of my personal favourites, because I can really relate to Akosua’s dilemma on faith and feelings sometimes. It’s important to remember that our faith isn’t built on a foundation of mere feelings, but on the solid Word of a God who remains faithful, even when men are not. Even when the world seems daunting, when life seems overwhelming, God dey 💜
Song for this chapter is In Plain Sight, by Sinmidele.
