Everything about that day was strange. It was December and just a few days to Christmas. I was woken up in the middle of the night by the sound of rain on my roof. Until then, I had never experienced rain in the last month of the year. It was just past three o’ clock and my alarm clock was due in a few minutes’ time. I got up to go to the bathroom and as I was leaving my bed, I noticed that my father’s portrait on top of the door frame was askew, perhaps it had been shifted by the wind that was blowing. I would pee first before adjusting it.
As I entered the bathroom, I noticed that the blowing in there was even stronger than the one back in the room. The bathroom windows were locked and there was no other opening that would allow that much air in the bathroom. The wind or breeze was very cold and it was chilling me to the bones. Honestly, I was already getting scared because nothing could give a befitting explanation to that breeze. I was pressed, so I just unzipped my fly and let it go quickly and rushed out of the bathroom. I tried to close the door gently but the wind took the door from me and slammed it hard against the frame.
We were only three in the whole house and my mom and sister were in their rooms probably snoring. Since the death of my dad, they had always looked at me as the man of the house. My younger sister in particular always felt super-save with me, it would be cowardly of me to run into either of my rooms and let them know that I was scared of something. So I just stayed there in the center of my room, with the rain pouring heavily outside and me looking over my shoulders as many times as possible. Then slowly, I started feeling the breeze I felt in the bathroom right in the bedroom! I didn’t understand what was going on. I was even more scared this time and I tried to scream but even I could not hear my own voice. I just lay face down on my bed and buried my face in my palms. I remained there for what seemed like eternity, not wanting to stand up to see anything anymore. As if the wind that was blowing was not scary enough, I started feeling my mattress sink. What was happening? Was someone in the room with me? Was that person sitting down on the bed with me? As I kept asking myself that question, I heard the voice. Though it did not sound like the original because it was echoing badly, I heard my name! "Ayomide". I was terrified. I heard my name again, the caller urging me sit up and look at them. It was more like an order than any other thing so I sat up quickly and saw him. I swear it was himI saw him! Still in the clothes he wore on the day he died.His tie sagged from the neck and his sleeves unbuttoned, my father or rather my father's ghost sat there on the bed and looked at me. I was shocked and my mouth was agape. His face was straight and I couldn't read the expression he had on his face. "What are you doing here, dad"? I asked. When he spoke, he didn't answer my question. I guessed he more important things to say than explaining what he was doing in my room. "You have been doing a great job, Ayo, and I'm proud of how you have handled the family and the extended family. However, you're not watching your sister's back well enough. This is the time she really needs a father figure around her to guide Ber right." "Engage in discussions with her, know her plans and thoughts, let her open up to you. That way you'll be able to advise her and ensure she doesn't miss her steps". "But dad, she has mom and she's closer to her than she is with me, plus don't you think mom would be in a better position to advise her than me? I have to go to work all day and I return when it's dead late most times, where's the time to talk with her"? I asked. He listened to me as if he was getting the point I was making, but when he spoke next, it was on another thing entirely. As if what I said was meaningless. "When is Christmas"? "In three days, dad". "So what plans do you have for Christmas"? It was the first time he was maybe replying to anything I said that day."We'll have a party, like we always have, the same kind of food and drinks you bought for Christmas...virtually all we used to do". "Well, that's nice son, but all those things we used to do then, they were my ideas. I brought them up myself. It wasn't a tradition and you won't due if you don't continue. You should start running the whole stuff like you're the man in charge. Do things your own way. I wasn't perfect, I know, I maybe took some decisions I shouldn't have taken. But if you follow my footsteps and continue what I was doing, father and son continue to make the same mistakes and you won't get a different result." "Do things differently, learn from my misdeeds and you'll be even greater than you ever dreamed." Then he babbled on for several seconds. I couldn't pick any thing he said after the last sentence, he sounded so foreign, as if he was speaking a mix of Swahili and Yoruba. Then he stopped babbling and looked straight into my eyes for long and said "You'll fall, but when you do, don't wait to be pitied, stand up and move on. You have a good life". At that instant I wanted to feel his touch again, I wanted him to pat me on the back like he used to do after such discussions when he was alive. But he wouldn't move. He just sat there. I reached out to touch him but I couldn't, my father disappeared just as he had appeared. The rain stopped and the breeze returned only for a few seconds. It was 3:30 and my alarm clock was already ringing. I had set it at that time to get prepared for the day's activities by drafting up my to-dos for the day. But I couldn't do anything. I just sat on the edge of the bed there thinking about what just happened.
I decided I wouldn't say this to mom or my sister because they'd think I was nuts and wouldn't believe that I actually saw a ghost. But I did see and talked to a ghost - my father's ghost.