The Painful Call

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I was busy at work, carefully calculating the next set of tasks I needed to get done. This is very vital to my KPI (key performance indicator). I really don’t like giving updates without any completed task, it makes one look like ‘you’ve only been pretending to work’, raising questions about the actual work done. I definitely don’t want all that drama! I kept my phone on silent to minimize distractions and kept it in a safe. I also left my small office to work in our company’s idea hub, so my intercom wouldn’t interfere with my concentration. Little did I know that while I was working, something else was cooking!

After finishing as much as I could on my itinerary, I quickly returned to my office, and as expected, I was welcomed by a call on my intercom line. "Samuel, where have you been”, one of my colleagues, Ope, needed my contribution to a project. “Answering the call of nature”, I jokingly replied. “What’s popping, man? I knew you guys would be on my tail, na why I run for una. Oya, shoot, I’m with you", I added. It’s normal to get a communications perspective on projects, so I gave my input, and we discussed and settled that. This is not the call that changed my whole week! Which call did ?

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I forgot to check my phone all through the working hours. I was used to my phone’s vibration anytime I needed to receive a call, so I never deemed it fit to check if I had missed any calls. My WhatsApp chat is always active on my laptop. I had already checked and replied to all the important messages, so I know I only have to deal with the rest at home. On my way out of the office building, I felt like checking my phone, and I was shocked at what I saw. Over 25 missed calls from my dad! I was still trying to guess what could have happened when another call entered from my dad, which I picked. “Hello Folu, where are you?” (Folu is my native name), His voice was solemn, and I could hear someone sobbing in the background (sounds like my mom). My countenance changed, and a lot of thoughts started crossing my head, all ending with the alarming question, “what could have happened?” I replied with my native language (Yoruba), “Daddy, kilosele?”, meaning, “Daddy, what happened?”. “I’m at work”, I added. He replied in my native language, “Baba Temilolu tiku o!”, meaning “Temilolu’s dad is dead!” I was so shocked, so filled with emotion as hot tears ran down my cheeks. As I had earlier suspected, it was my mom sobbing in the background.

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Temilolu’s dad is my mom’s elder brother. Even at a tender age, I was very fond of him. He was like my second dad. Temilolu is his first son. But me and my siblings all grew up calling him “Daddy Temilolu” because that’s what our parents call him. I was his favorite among my siblings. Even my dad gets a bit jealous anytime he’s around because he always treats me specially. We nurtured the relationship till his demise. I still had a long conversation with him the weekend prior to his death. I later got to know he was involved in a ghastly motor accident, and he didn’t make it to the hospital. At work, the day I received the call, all my colleagues were shocked to see me so emotional. Temilolu’s dad really helped me in so many ways, he gave me advice in situations where I had challenges making decisions and in many other beautiful scenarios where he really lived up to being a father figure (my dad was capable, but he is not always available). I really miss him even as I write, and I know I may never see my second dad again, but the beautiful memories we share lives forever!