You know how life can hit you out of nowhere? It was dusk in Nairobi, the sky turning all shades of orange, and I was mindlessly flipping through old chats on my phone, trying to shake off some lingering memories. Then it rang – an unknown number. I almost ignored it, but something made me pick up. “Kevin… it’s Dad,” the voice cracked on the other end. “Please, son, come home.” My stomach dropped. This was the man who’d vanished from our lives when I was barely ten. I’d spent years building walls around that hurt, convincing myself I didn’t need him.
My mum, that incredible woman, raised me solo in Kisii, teaching me to stand tall, be patient, and value myself. His absence made me guarded and super independent, always keeping people at arm’s length. But his voice, shaky with what sounded like real regret, cracked something open inside me. The next day, I hopped on a flight to Eldoret, where he was living now. As the plane cut through the clouds over the Rift Valley, flashes of old family trips came rushing back – Mum’s laughter, those bumpy roads, the unspoken tensions.
His place was modest, in a quiet suburb. There he was at the gate, looking frail, eyes tired. He reached out for a hug; I just stood there, frozen. How do you embrace someone who’s been a ghost for so long? “I don’t expect forgiveness,” he whispered. “But I’m begging for a chance to make it right.” We talked for hours in his simple sitting room – he opened up about the debts, the business crashes, and the mistakes that drove him away. It wasn’t excuses, just raw truth mixed with sorrow. My rage softened into this messy swirl of sadness and a longing I’d buried deep. Read more. https://drbokko.com/?p=35337
