NON FICTION


CONT......

People came from far and wide. The speed in which the news spread would have put the internet to shame. The Vice President even came to show respect. My dad’s colleagues attended, all wearing ‘RIP Marcel’ T-shirts with his picture on it. That is when I realised how respected and loved he was.

Even though I felt sad, amazingly another part of me felt so happy. Not because I was revelling in his death, but because my choices were right. I had not let my mother’s guilt trips hold me back from coming and meeting him. How ironic was this? For me to arrive Sunday 29th May at 5.30am, and for him to die on Sunday 5th June at 5.30am? God had granted me a last week (to the minute) with my Dad. My memories were not of a sick, dying man, but a vibrant, jovial man who unknowingly had one week to live.

Marcel Ndi, aged 54 made his peace before he died. I respected him for attempting to right his wrongs. I obtained a deeper understanding of people. I learned that appearance is deceptive. As much as I thought he didn’t care, I was not witness to the nights he would cry to Evelyne when he would come to terms with his lack of support for me. I realised he always had good intentions, but not enough ‘do’. Nevertheless, he provided some of my best memories. If you could squeeze fatherhood into three individual meetings, I guess he tried. That is why he is the stranger I love.

Very moving story. I felt connected. Well done!

Thank You

Much Appreciated