I couldn't decide on a title,hence the two

"When Did You Know You Were First Loved At Home?"....a question as simple as they come but with so much depth,so much complexity, there's really not a straight answer to it. I will attempt,to the best of my ability, to paint a vivid picture for you in this write-up but I'm not making any promises. In the end,you may not be any clearer than you have been on the topic or you may know more than you have. What it depends on,I cannot say but the odds are in your favor, because narrations are what I'm good at and I'm going to be putting my best foot forward on this one because this happens to be a topic I'm very passionate about.

For some people, they have always known,always felt it, love has always been evident in their lives, permeated every aspect of their existence and remained no matter the weather. They are what the world would refer to as "the exception", though in a perfect universe,an alternate life,it would probably be the other way around. I mean,what else are parents supposed to do except love their kids,provide for them and protect them. As tacky as it sounds,and as much as we each grow to become our own people, individuals who go off and make crazy decisions, not all in our best interest,yes…the role of a parent is to shield the child from as much harm as possible,to hide them from much of life's curveballs that would be thrown their way in the course of their life or at most, prepare a smooth landing for them to cushion their fall or soften their landing. Some individuals were lucky to be raised in families where there was an abundance of affection,where 20 years down the line,their parents still looked at each other like the stars and the moon were reflected in the others' visages. It's such a beautiful sight to see and as people who've had no shortage of love and goodwill,they tend to grow up strong and daring,with the world as their oyster,ready to be captured and conquered at their every whim. They lived carefree lives, wearing their hearts on their sleeves, unabashed, unashamed and unapologetic about their actions. They are the ones who can proclaim their love out loud,shout it out from the rooftop,for everyone to know,for the whole world to see and not feel guilty about it. They are those who take every heartbreak as it comes,as a chance to rebuild,to start over with someone new and not get lost trying to figure out what made the other person decide to leave them. Their hearts are always welcoming to new experiences,they keep an open mind and they do not weep when relationships end,they rejoice because it happened and because it was beautiful while it lasted. Their parents probably drummed into their heads the fact that they are loved and therefore should not settle for anything less than they are deserving of and it's gone a long way to shape their lives. These are the ones who are best friends with their parents,they laugh at their jokes and when they're in trouble,they first think to tell their parents about it,not whether they would be killed or disowned for daring to color outside the lines in the first place because they know there would always be a permanent place for them in the arms of their family.

Like I said,the lucky ones.

There are those who pick up these traits as they go,they know love because they've seen it in the faces of their friends who were high-school sweethearts and who have maintained that relationship,gone through thick and thin and come out the other side stronger,but still together. Said friends have been together for so long,no one can really remember the exact time it happened but some 15 odd years down the line,as everyone gathers at the dinner table one New Year's afternoon,after a long drawn out service hosted by the Bishop at the Cathedral,and they start to trade stories of things that happened in their past,of moments long gone but whose memories they still hold and cling tightly into,it becomes clear to everyone seated at that table that these two have been in each other's lives,every step of the way and no one seated there can remember seeing one without the other. I don't know what to call these people,they are not as lucky as the first set. This is not to suggest that they were denied attention at a younger age,this is just simply telling you that it was not a common occurrence,so they picked up traits that would keep them close to the source. They've learnt to appreciate the beauty of art in all its forms,they cry when the end credits of a rom-coms are done,they would lay down their lives for their friends and for causes they believe in,they listen to music and their ears,like a honeytrap,catches all of the phrases that talk about the uniqueness of giving up control to someone else,of the complexities of love,they are the favorite aunties and uncles,the cool cats,their little nieces love to hang out with,they are the ones who have seen love in all it's glory and yet have gotten very little of it in their lifetime and so have made it a decision to never pass up the opportunity to spread light and laughter wherever they go. They are the ones who always have a smile for you no matter the situation. Love was not ingrained in them at birth,it was a skill they had to pick up along the way,a way to survive,to calm the aching in their hearts each night,for seeing others happy, gave them the highest fulfillment. Love to them is a second language which they've come to speak very fluently,despite it's intricacies and complexities.

There are those whose parents have never ever come out to tell them that they are loved before but have always shown up for them,always come through for them no matter the challenge,always been there,with the advice and the prayers,the words of encouragement,the little gifts and the unwavering support. This is not me trying to be stereotypical but most Nigerian parents fall under this category,even my dad...but I'll get to that shortly. Do not mistake their reprimands for hatred,they are simply doing the best they can, trying to raise you properly without damaging you as intensely as their parents did them. They will scar you in more ways than one but then again,they have never been parents before, it's a 'trial and error' situation.

Finally,there are those who are at the very bottom of the barrel. Don't laugh. Yes you, you know the ones I'm talking about so do I really need to talk about them in detail still?

I just want you to know something,these people have been disappointed at every turn in their lives. Their biggest heartaches are the wounds from home even they cannot seem to shake off. Their lives are turbulent in nature,their hearts…a frickin tempest,their minds…trust me,you don't want to know what they've got going on there.

Constant heartbreaks have destroyed their persona, turned them into cold psychopaths. Made them lose their senses and bred them into slow burning monsters. Don’t trivialize the effect these people can have on you. As they say,misery loves company and they're constantly looking for someone who would share their pain with them,someone to shoulder their hurt, unbeknownst to them obviously. It’s just sad that some of them grew up in households or families that were non-affectionate and never talked about feelings. that even when they were kids, they were not used to expressing their feelings and what was going on inside their little minds. that instead of teaching them how to be confident,more expressional, they were getting scolded when they were trying to explain. So they grew up guarded, close-minded and kind of hesitant to show some affection, because it has always felt weird,foreign and uncomfortable; they have never been used to doing it. Infact, to some of them, they have become immune to kindness and they see a smile or someone else being nice to them as a sign of weakness or an opportunity to manipulate that person. That’s why now, they'vr grown up to become these individuals with a silent heart and mind with an adverse tendency to become emotionally and physically unavailable like they don’t care about anyone else in the world,not even themselves. And even they question why they are like that. The only truth that exists is that they grew up in an abusive household and were mentally and physically abused and even now in their adulthood,they still sometimes struggle so much with accepting love that is healthy and talking about their feelings because everytime they ever did,they were belittled and gaslighted.

Yes,your environment shapes your persona but mostly, it's your choices that define you.

I heard somewhere though that your trauma is not your fault but it's your responsibility to heal so you don't go around breaking people as you navigate through life and that's the realest thing I've heard. It doesn't matter how you were raised,you can make a difference. I've seen people be devoid of love throughout their lifetime and then become the most loving individuals ever later in life because they do not want anyone who comes across them to be afflicted with that unkindness that they were forced to live with. They make a choice to let go of all the bitterness and the heartache and just be…..

You're probably wondering why this work is named after my dad and I have only mentioned him once since you began reading. Sorry about that,I was trying to flex my knowledge of the kinds of people I've come across in my life and I kind of lost track of what this story was supposed to be about.

"When Did You Know You Were First Loved at Home." I saw this topic trending on Twitter about a week ago now and I went through the quotes and the replies,there were incredible stories of sacrifice and care and I couldn't help thinking to myself that in my case, there's not one story that would capture this feeling and then I came across someone who said "there has never been any question of that in my house,I've always felt loved." And that resonated well with me,there was nothing much to say again,that person had said it all.

My Dad and I have always had a special relationship,maybe it stems from the fact that he's the only parent I have ever known. This is not to suggest that there aren't people in my life who've helped shape who I am today or who I'm going to become in the years to follow. I've had my own fair share of mentors and role-models but no matter how many caring adults come into your life,no matter how many older women I meet who I respect and admire and who've been good to me, the void in my heart,that big gaping hole left there by the untimely demise of my mother…that can never be filled.

I don't know the full details of the story because no one would talk to me about these things,not even my dad. I feel like everyone who knew my mum has moved on (and I don't blame them at all,grief sucks and I'm glad they got to that point) but I am still stuck here stumbling in the darkness, trying to piece together any clues I might find that would be able to tell me who she was as a person. I haven't found anything concrete,yet but there's still time and I'm going to keep holding out hope. I know this sounds an awful lot like dilly-dallying but that's not what's happening here, believe me.

The problem is,how do you move on from someone who you never knew? How do you miss someone who's gone,forever? How do you go on living your life and not feel like you're disrespecting their legacy? I'll tell you how. You feel strongly about them,you miss them with a fierceness,an intensity that only someone who's caught in that same situation can understand. Does it ever get better? Oh no, it never goes away.

20 years from that day,you may catch a whiff of their scent or see someone who reminds you of them and your whole day would be ruined...

And even when the grief is still new and you catch yourself laughing,you'll feel so guilty....

It's a whole process. I know that feeling....I've lived it.

My dad told me once that when my mum had me,she developed complications,she was sick for the longest time and he had to take care of me. Maybe that established the bond I had with this man and my mum's death served to solidify the entire thing,since we were left all alone together,just the two of us against all odds. Sometimes,in the dead of the night,when I'm somewhere between sleep and wakefulness,I try to imagine if I can recall what it must have been like for my dad,a young man,barely 5 years into his marriage, being saddled with the responsibility of taking care of his new born daughter while his wife,the love of his life lay in the hospital at the brink of death,plagues with a nameless condition and slipping farther and farther away from life with each passing day. My dad refused to talk about it but many people have told me that my mum never quite recovered after having me and I think it's accurate because when I look at some of the pictures from my childhood,I see how emaciated she was,her skin was also discolored and she didn't look well at all. I don't know how my dad got through that period but I can tell you that 3 years later,when my mum eventually succumbed to deaths call,my dad was wrecked. Her death destroyed him completely. He toon to drinking and inspite all of the advice he was getting from everyone about letting it all go,that it was for the best and that she was in a better place now,it took one accident that nearly claimed his life to get him back on track again. That was a wake up call. He knew what he had to do,he had to be strong for his little girl and strong was he. Throughout much of my life,my dad has been that constant fortress,that force,towering over me and helping me navigate the treacherous waters of this world. I wish I could tell you everything. There are a million and one stories I can tell you about my father and I but I'm afraid there are not enough words in the whole wide world to fill the pages,to describe him, in a manner that's deserving.

My mum had been sick for far too long and everyone knew it would take a miracle for her to get well again. Infact, most people had given up on her ever getting better,they were just now expecting the worst,she had suffered too much,maybe death would bring respite,not just to her ailing self but to the hearts and minds of those who loved her dearly,fiercely and with such intensity,it was going to shatter them when she was no longer there. Everyone had come to accept this except my father. Perhaps,if he had done so,her death would not have haunted him too much,he would have come to terms with it sooner but no, despite everything that was happening,it was as though,he kept holding out hope of a better tomorrow,that she would be better someday and she would be well and they could continue building their family and growing in love. That never happened for him and he lost it.

I don't know much about the dynamics of their relationship but I believe that my mum was my dad's one true love. He met her in Calabar,she was a student at the University and he had just been transferred there from Akwa- Ibom,a young man,still wet behind the ears and new in the civil service.She came to the post office to send a letter to her family at home and that's where they first saw each other. I imagine their attraction was instant(because believe me,my mum was something of a goddess and my dad wasn't bad looking himself,back in the day)and they kept seeing each other even after that day,I don't know the full gist. Anyway, their wedding happened much later after my mum had finished from Law School and they had all these dreams and plans,my mum was vying to become a judge and a senior advocate of Nigeria while my dad wanted to move from NIPOST and venture into academia (he never really did,he did dally though),they wanted to have four children(they got only me and, according to rumours,one still birth),they had planned to love and support each other and grow old together but fate had other plans. I don't know that she was the love of his life, it's impossible to know these things and its even weird to think of your parents as separate entities or individuals who had lives outside of you. That and coupled with the fact that people married for various reasons back in the day,not just because of love. I can only imagine,but a girl can dream right? I'd never really know but I think from the way our lives became so bland and dreary when she was no longer there, it's safe to say my mum's life had a very significant impact in my dad's universe. I think it's safe to say she was his anchor and she kept him grounded. Losing my mum so early in their marriage (just 6 years,they had wedded in 1999) ruined my dad completely,he was worse for wear,he lost focus,became stagnated but had to remain grounded to take care of me,he declined positions and offers abroad because there was no one to take care of me. It's all very sad but this story is not about the intricacies of my mum's death, it's about the blessing that my dad's life has been to me.

One day,my dad and I were discussing as usual and he told me how in the 80's,it was so easy for Nigerians to travel abroad, the naira was still a formidable currency and Nigeria was still the 'Giant of Africa' in both words and deeds and I jokingly asked him why he didn't go,I said something about how I'd have been a UK baddie by now and a citizen too and he just quietly shut me up with "who told you,you'd have been my child…I'd have never even met your mother to begin with." Damn daddy,that stung a bit but yeah, that's the kind of man my father is,quiet and subtle,well versed in world history, understanding,with a beautiful penmanship and a home of quippy anecdotes. He really is something special. All good things happen for a reason and I fear I would not be half the person I am today without this man's influence and grace in my life.

'Daddy' has always been there for me,always come through for me,always done everything for me,bought me my first pad when I started having my periods, got me hooked on books by telling me that they are the window to the world's soul,got me to love old-skool songs(90's and early 2000's RnB,Sunny Neji,Style Plus, Plantation Boyz,Tuface,Westlife, Backstreet Boys,Celine Dion…just to mention but a few), made me fall in love with classical films by showing me (The Sound of Music,The Godfather,Scarface and so many others), succumbed to pressure to get married so I could have a mother who would love me and take care of me while he was away on business even though, according to him,he never really cared much for having other kids(I was enough for him and he made that pretty clear all the time,the fact that I was special to him), had me change secondary school's last minute when he discovered I was becoming too boy crazy(At the time,I was so mad at him for doing this because I missed my friends back at FGC Vandeikya and I thought he was just being mean but just recently,it hit me that he did what was in my best interest,I won't even get into that story, it's a lot), bawled his eyes out on my graduation day when they called me out as the 'Best Academic Student' of set 2019 and let me pick a course I wanted when I was about entering University. There's a lot I can tell you about my dad but the only thing you need to know is that he loves me and he does right by me.

When I was young and my mum had died, ,I had developed this fear of mosquito nets so I would wear one of my dad's long shirts to protect me from any insect that wanted to bite me. I would be swimming in it but I didn't mind. To this day, whenever I'm home,his T-shirts always deplete in number because, well because his are always finer or maybe it's because I don't have a man to take from yet. Who knows?

I won't even talk about how he sends me money every other week to get things I need even though he knows I'm now working or how he bundles foodstuff for me straight from home whenever I complain of hunger killing me in this school or how he has never for once hit me or shouted at me,his scolding is much too subtle and that hurts more,makes you feel guilty more. Sometimes I wonder why he doesn't get angry and flare up like every other person but I know I'm lucky that he is the way he is. More times than one,I have blamed my dad for things he did in the past that have influenced the way I am now but I know it was not out of spite or malice and there's nothing to forgive.

So back to the question "When Did You First Know You Were Loved At Home?".... I would like to say I've always known,love is not in short supply in my mind and even though my dad may not be affectionate as other parents,he tells me once in a while,he prays for me ,he gists with me,every chance he gets,reads my crazy write ups and offers suggestions and criticisms,buys me books to keep me company,buys me data to fund my work and craziness on the internet, doesn't falter in showing how proud he is of me by showing me off to his colleagues and friends, sings word for word to old songs with me when we're on trips and provides advice and reassurance to me,whenever I need it. Even though he has always done all these,I think I needed one particular incident to cement the fact that I was first and foremost in this man's heart.

It happened when I was in ss2,my stepmom beat the living daylights out of me for not washing the clothes she asked me to on time. I was bruised and hurting,my ego was shattered too and she didn't let me eat throughout that day. Mind you that I was younger then and I didn't know this was abuse,I was merely just sad because I thought I had outgrown this, just to be clear,this was not the first time something like this was happening in my house,I never told my dad about it though because I never wanted him to worry but this time,I could not just hold myself,I found a way to call my dad and I told him I was going to run away,that if he didn't come soon,I would leave this house and never return. When my dad came back from Otukpo that weekend,he asked what happened and my stepmom gave him a flimsy excuse, saying stuff like "Is it because I'm not her mother that you're angry I touched her, you're going to spoil this girl." My dad was so pissed,he asked me to pack my bags and he took me with him the next day to Otukpo but not before telling her that "She is my own flesh and blood,yet I have never touched her or beat her to that extent,do you think it's because I'm stupid or something? I'm not saying you cannot discipline her but this is too much, don't kill my child for me,I don't have another one somewhere else." That was the first time I had heard my dad raise his voice and it's been the last time since. My dad apologized to me and cried,he begged me to kill the thoughts I had of running away and told me to be patient. I spent the remainder of that vacation with him in Otukpo, peacefully.

When I was younger,my dad wouldn't even let me talk to boys,now..he doesn't even mind..he sees my make friends and he responds to their greetings and he doesn't bring it up later, it's shocking to say the least. To see him grow from that scary father figure that would chase all of my friends who were not girls away to this chill dude who I can now joke with. Who is this guy and what has he done with my pa. Maybe it's because I'm now older, it's not bar though and I'm happy.

You know how some people say their mum is their best friend,well,my dad is mine…Previously,our relationship was more of father-daughter and he complained,I was too quiet,too distant,that I didn't open up more and he didn't know me. I don't know when exactly it happened but over the years there's been a twist in that aspect and we're more of pals now and I couldn't be more grateful for the fact.

That's why I say,if any man can ever strive to love me half as much as my dad does,we wouldn't even have any problems. I like to think that I would be rich someday and I would give my dad everything he ever wanted but could not have. For example,a good and fancy car…We never had one of those,we simply could not afford it,all of my dad's cars have always had one issue or the other,a vacation and time to see the world. His birthday is in a few weeks and he'll be 58. My heart aches everytime I think about him growing older. I hope I don't lose him for real, before I'm able to say "thank you" properly for all of the many ways my life has been blessed because he's in it.

I love my dad and everyday I pray his efforts may be crowned in utmost success,his pockets replenished and his going out and coming in be protected and guarded safely. He's been more than a great father,he's been an icon.

I've been wanting to tell a story like this from the onset but I never really knew what to write. I read a friend's work recently and I remember saying to myself I wish I could write something like that. And then I started racking my brain about who to write about.I didn't want to talk about love interests anymore because that seemed like pouring water into a basket, because the moment I wrote about someone I loved, everything just went away like clockwork. Anyway,the only other person I know very well is myself and I cannot possibly tell you the story of my life without roping in my father. Hence this . Enjoy!!!