My dad is in the morgue. He died at sixty. I wasn’t home when he died. I left home long ago, got married, and now have a family I’m raising. My younger sister was still living with my parents when my dad died. She was the one who called to tell me. I broke down and cried like a child. My dad had suffered. He was sick for almost a year. Death should have been a relief, but it broke me beyond measure.

We are still going through the usual arrangements families go through when a patriarch dies. My sister called me one morning and said, “You can’t imagine what I found on Daddy’s phone.”

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I thought she had found a large amount of money while going through his phone. Out of excitement, I said, “Send me a screenshot. This is all we need at this moment. Money.”

She replied, “Wait until you see it.”

A few seconds later, she sent me three videos. They were my dad’s ‘azigi.’ He had recorded himself doing it. The women were different in each video. One of them is someone we all know from our hometown. She had even visited the house with tears a day after my dad died.

I opened my mouth while watching the videos. I couldn’t even watch them to the end. My sister said, “They were in a hidden folder. The videos are barely three years old, and they were taken only weeks apart.”

I screamed, “Shut up! I hope you haven’t shown them to Mom.”

She responded, “No, I don’t want her to intentionally die today so she can meet dad and confront him with azigi questions.”

We burst out laughing, but this isn’t a laughing matter. I told her to delete the videos and scan through every corner of the phone to be sure there were no such videos hidden anywhere. My dad lived a life and deserves to go with grace, not scandal.

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We are burying my dad in my hometown, so I’m here. I see that woman in the video almost every day. She comes to cry. She would see me and encourage me to take heart. Then she would burst out, “Oh, Arthur! You didn’t do well at all. Why leave this soon?”

Then tears would follow. Someone encouraging me to stay strong is rather breaking down in pieces. But I understand her tears. She had a good time with my dad.

Now, all she has are memories, memories she will forever share with me and my sister.

—Charles 

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