This is narrative of my heartbreak. Today on the bus on my way to work, I grew nostalgic about my childhood and my teenage days. Pictures flashed through my memory and I remembered days that I dissolved into laughter and enjoyed life moments as they came through. The moments cut down my throat as I felt proud of the great times I have been through in this life and the countless enjoyable times I had spent from pre-school all the way until I joined motherhood. I was proud of the people I met and the footprints they left in my heart. Then among my most treasured one came through, and my heart broke.
Four years ago I had travelled to Coast to visit my dad and relatives. It was the month of August. I was on holiday so I had enough time hence I visited several places. I took a lot of pictures most of which I came back with to add to my photo album. I did not have a camera then and I kept most of the photos in a special album I had bought for myself. Then one day my mum called me and told me that thieves had broken into our house. This was on September 9, 2014. She narrated of how she came back only to find the door open staring at her. As she walked in she was greeted by a sad silence of the rooms. They took all our electronics, some seat cushions, beddings, bags, and stripped our clothes. I then arranged to go back to the city immediately to go check on the loss that had occurred and count that which was left for me. They stole some of my clothes but what disturbed me most was my missing photo album. I searched for it everywhere but I could not find it. I missioned to ransack the whole room now more than what it had gone through but my album was nowhere to be found. I was engulfed, heartbroken a feeling that has never escaped my heart until today. As I type this I am even having a dejavu of how it felt at that time to realise that my treasured pictures were nowhere to be found. No one in the house had seen it.
Long after, this got me thinking.
Was this just theft or a different mission all together!
My question is, after they stole all the material stuff they needed why did they go with my memories? Why did they steal that which they did not identify with? Of what value would my photos add to their lives? I failed to understand why someone off all things they would steal photos, I mean photos of someone. An album that had my photos since I was a baby, in kindergarten school, primary, high school etc.
What was their main intention when they carried the album with them? Just why would someone steal another person’s memories? Of all the things they went away with this was the greatest asset that I cry for until today. Because the memories are irreplaceable. I had stored them so that I would show my children in future, my family and also remind myself of the good old days, but, now there is nothing to show.
These are memories I lost! Gone!
Anyway, those are moments I will never forget, they are my unforgettable pasts. Even this one, I will never forget.