Jide, Please don’t go! Episode 2

I said, ‘No, it is not my portion and it will never be.’

Mom grabbed the attending doctor at Shepherd’s Hospital Ikoyi. I’ve driven past that hospital several times–its environment has always been alluring to me. Imagine me, hanging my stethoscope around my neck and walking around in my white, starched lab coat. The feeling was exhilarating. 

Never, for once did I imagine that the beautiful Shepherd’s Hospital will offer us a bed in the pediatric wing. 

Leuki- what?

‘Leukemia does not run in my vein, the Blood of Jesus does and Leukemia does not run in my baby’s blood, the Blood of Jesus does.’

It’s been three days since Mosun was rushed here and she hasn’t said a word. She has only nodded or smiled or winced in pain when moved around-her eyes blinking out commands when needed. 

“Lord, your promise is that I and the children whom You have given me are for signs and wonders. Mosunmola, I decree that you are for signs and wonders…the number of your days you will fulfill. There shall no evil befall you. You shall not die but live to declare the goodness of God in the land of the living!”

Mom kept on quoting scriptures and dad kept praying in tongues. All Jide and I did was take turns singing and reading out scriptural references to her.

The past three days felt like three decades.

Until the fifth day. Mom and dad had gone home to get a change of clothes while Jide and I insisted we would wait till they came back for us. I felt a hand poke my side as I dozed off beside Mosun’s bed. Initially I ignored it but when I felt the jab again I sat up, only to find Mosun up at me. Wide awake and grinning from ear to ear. 

“After you will say you’re watching me ba?” she pouted in our local vernacular. “Look at how both of you are sleeping like Jesus’ disciples in the Garden of Gethsemane.” 

I hissed playfully–full of relief that she had finally come around–before waking the sleeping prophet, Jide.

He almost grabbed her off the bed.

“Mosun, don’t scare us like that again, Haba na.” 

“I’m sorry”, came a childlike response, “but I am hungry.” 

After a cup of hot chocolate she felt alive and talkative again.

It was our turn to pepper her with questions. “Why did you scream? What did you see?”

“Easy, easy, fellow citizens”, she piqued. “Avail yourselves for tonight’s meeting and you will have all questions answered.” 

We both rolled our eyes; this Mosun is something else.

“Please where is my daddy?”

“So, you will not ask of your mommy too? We all turned, surprised at how fast our parents got here.”

Shouts of thanksgiving joyfully echoed throughout the room! 

Mom worshipped and rolled on the hospital floor.

Jide was eager to go home, but the doctor insisted on keeping Mosun one more night.

We all slept off. 

At  3 a.m. Mosun woke us up with her singing:

Elohim, Eternal One!

Elohim You never change!

It was so loud that we couldn’t sleep. Groggy with sleep, we joined in the song and after several repeats, she stopped and started to recite the Psalms. 

At this point, I was feeling a bit uncomfortable. I started to notice the room getting brighter than before and I mentioned it to Jide, whispering to him but he was confused. Maybe I was dreaming.

As Mosun got to the last verse, she stopped. 

“Daddy, please pray for us.”

Daddy obeyed without questions, but his prayers were out of sync, at least to me.

“Eternal King, unquestionable Father, You Who does as You please and non dare question You. Thank you for all that you have done in my life and family. Thank you for the cross of Jesus and it’s efficacious Blood. Thank you for Mosun, for calling her to yourself. We commend her into your hands. Keep her and heal her completely. Let the glory that you have shown us through her life radiate brightly everyday and as we prepare for heaven, make us worthy servants, Thank you Lord, In Jesus’ Name. Amen.

Mosun’s amen was the loudest. 

Then she exclaimed,

“Thank you Daddy, Thank you Mommy, Thank you Auntie Sharon and Uncle Jide!” (I was amazed. This was the first time she would refer to Jide and I as Uncle and Auntie. 

“Thank you for taking care of me, but now I want to rest. I will sleep and wake up in the morning, ok?

Please wait for me o.”

At this point, my dad was on his feet and mom was shaking her head. 

“Mosun, why are you thanking us?”

“Because that’s what I’m supposed to be doing na mommy?

Just let me sleep, I’ll wake up in the morning. Please wait for me o.”

With that she laid down and was quiet.

The room became suddenly dim. I tapped my dad. “Did you lower the light in the room?”

He replied in the negative.

I looked at the clock. It was 5:50 a.m.

I looked at Mosun, she was peacefully sleeping–so calm–but something was off. 

I touched her, she didn’t stir. 

“Did she not just fall asleep?”

I poked her. She didn’t move.

“Mommy, Mosun is too quiet!” I cried with alarm. 

Mom called and Dad touched, fearing and dreading to say the least expected.

“But she was just talking a minute ago.”

I rushed out to get the nurses and possibly the doctor.

After minutes of examining, the doctor stood up and looked at us. From one face to another.

“Were you all in this room with her?” 

“Yes sir”, came the collective response.

“I’m sorry to say this sir”, he held my dad’s shoulder, “but we lost her.”

It was like a dream. Or movie. The room began to spin and I heard  a thud.

My mom had fainted.

I screamed at the top of my lungs.

“Mosunmola! Wake up now! Don’t wait till the morning.” I pleaded.

I wish my tears could bring her back. We would cry her a river. 

But I would never forget her words: “Please wait for me… I’ll wake up in the morning”. 

~~~~~~~~

A hand on my shoulder brought me back to reality.

It was Jide. 

I turned to him. Unknown to me,  I was physically crying.

“Sister Mi, what happened? Why are you crying?” That was when I realized I had been actually crying.

I held Jide as if he was going to disappear in a moment.

“I remembered Mosun.” I replied in a hushed whisper.

At this point, Jide held me so tightly and for some minutes we both cried. 

Death is wicked.

Oh death where is thy sting, Oh grave where is thy victory?

As I released Jide, I held his face in my hands.

“Jide, Mosun has gone to be with the Lord. All we are left with on this side of eternity are memories. Memories that bind us together but make no mistake, we will see her again.

You believed that. You preached that. You practiced that.

What changed now, Jide? Where did you miss it?”

Jide stepped out of my hold, straightened his shirt, kissed me on the forehead and picked up his bag. 

As I watched his shoulders square up, I knew today would be like other days too. He had rejected the call of the Savior again. 

I walked behind him calling tenderly. “ Jide, please don’t go.”

He walked to the door, looked back at me and shut the door behind him.

The resounding finality of the door shutting shook me.

I dropped to the ground and wept. A certain weight dropped upon my heart that I knew only a trip to the secret place could lift. Right there at the entrance, I poured my heart out to God with only one request on my lips–“Please bring Jide back”.