Junior hugged his mum as she walked out of hospital; that warm, affectionate hug that could have easily brought a robot to tears.
The little boy clung onto his mother like his life depended on it, tears of joy rolling down their cheeks. I just looked on, too emotional to even master enough strength to join them in their loving embrace.
The last 7 or so months have been the hardest of my adult life, to put it mildly.
Look at me starting my story from the end. I guess after my pandemic experience I just wanted to get to the good part.
My name is Nyaga, and the young man I mentioned earlier on is my 13 year old son, Junior. Yes, I come from that generation of parents who find naming their sons after themselves cool.
My wife, Nancy, is what you'd call a Jane of all trades. We met during our first year of campus and have been inseparable since.
She is the ying to my yang, the calmness to my madness if you like.
I work, or rather used to work at a reputable media house for the last decade or so. Nancy, as I said, was a jack of all trade.
From supplying groceries to supermarkets right from our 2-bedroomed house in Umoja, to selling mats she'd stitched by hand online, to running a taxi business.
The very definition of a superwoman.
Did I mention that she did all these and still raised our gift aka Jnr? Well, now I do.
Yes, I did help out in raising our son, but you dads. All I really did was play bad cop whenever he was channeling his inner destroyer, plus the weekend football games at the local playground.
For story purposes, it's important for you to note that when Jnr was 2 years old, some Coop bank agents made a visit to my media, or rather former media house.
They were pushing all parents to open up Jumbo Junior accounts for the kids as part of a promo as they were our clients.
I didn't make much of it then, but still chose to enroll our little genius as a mere formality.
I had no idea at the time that this would turn out to be one of those moments you look back on with a smile.
Anyway. Flashforward to twenny twenny, the year that seems to drag on for a thousand days.
Junior had just gotten enrolled in Form 1 at one of those top notch schools where sausages pass for breakfast. A chip off the old block, I often boast, but his mum always has a counter punch. We always agree to disagree.
Then March 13th happened. My entire world was flipped on its backside like those roadside chapatis.
A month into the pandemic and I got the letter everyone at the office had been dreading.
We are sorry to inform you that due to the prevailing economic conditions… you know the rest.
I was out of a job.
I did get a sizable severance package, but that would prove to be inconsequential for the mountain I was about to face.
We were just getting adjusted to the new normal.
Nancy crocheting away like a woman possessed, me freelance writing for anyone who’d have me and Jnr always disappearing to akina Njeri’s (our neighbour’s daughter) for their new classroom setting.
They have known each other since they could barely speak a word and made up words like abujubuju made them laugh for hours on end.
Nancy and I were glad we didn’t have to take him through how to draw a mitochondrion or how to calculate the area of a model cuboid.
We had spent his entire childhood telling him how we always clinched the number 1 position during our heydays back in school. We didn’t see the need to sow any seeds of doubt in his young mind.
Then it happened.
It started out like any normal ailment. Nancy had been complaining of abdominal and back pains, and had trouble putting away a plate of rice and minji...the latter was what raised a red-flag as Nancy’s ability to tear through a plate of food like a starved hyena was one of the traits that told me she was my one.
When she started frequenting the washroom at a pace that pointed towards Jnr getting a sibling...we knew it was time to visit the gynecologist.
So there I was. My brain was operating on the very edge of its capacity.
If Nancy was pregnant, what would be my next move. Should I try out a teaching gig? I’m well respected in the field of literature. Do we take a loan on our new taxi and have the money stashed away just in case?
This was my state of mind as our doctor walked towards the smiling fool in the waiting area.
Dr Oneko tapped me on the shoulder.
To say I was brought down from my ‘possibility of a daughter planet’ and crashing down to earth would be an understatement.
Having known our good doctor for decades, I had grown to know when his face spelled trouble, despite his noble attempts at an optimistic poker face.
From then on, all I had was … “caught early….we’ll need to admit...and stay positive”....the rest was just a blur.
I had sunk to my knees at this point. My cheeks felt like the surface of the sun and there was this ringing sound in my ear that just went on and on.
I don’t know how long it took me to regain some of my senses. Nancy has been diagnosed with cervical cancer….
It took me even longer to digest all of it.
However, the moment I turned to my phone, I got some much needed perspective.
There was Jnr smiling back at me, I always had him as my screensaver.
I needed to keep it together.
You can see her now...Dr Oneko said, after he noticed my change in demeanour. I had completely forgotten he was there.
I picked myself up, put on the most optimistic face I could master and made my way to Nancy’s room.
There she was, as beautiful as the first day I ran into her at the campus cafeteria.
We are going to fight this...was the first thing I said.
I just need you to be in the fight with me...just fight, I’ll take care of everything else.
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It’s been 5 months since, during which I have come to understand terms such as a CA-125 blood test like the back of my hand CA-125 is a substance in the blood that may increase when a cancerous tumor is present.
During our last visit, Nancy’s count showed she was well on her way to recovery.
I have Jnr to thank for that. With Magoha announcing that Form 1’s would be back in school next year, my little-man surprised me.
Remember the Jumbo Junior account I mentioned earlier on, well, he walked up to me and said.
Dad, I know the money you’ve been setting aside is meant to secure my future, but is it okay if we talk to Coop and have some of it spent on mum’s medication?
Tears welled up in my eyes as I struggled to keep it together. I have never felt such a surge of emotions in all my years of existence….Never….all I could do was hug him just to keep my drenched face away from him.
Having my personal and business account at Coop Bank also helped. Coupled with our insurance cover, I was still short of a sizable chunk.
I had placed my new taxi on the market, but the Covid-economy had proven to be a tough one. I know Jnr’s money isn’t to be fiddled with but it helped secure vital medication for his mum.
I have since managed to sell the taxi and secured his future by replenishing his funds. It really pays to have a good relationship with your banker.
So here we are, Nancy and Jnr locked in a picture perfect embrace.
Oh, and I am set to start lecturing at one of the top universities.
There truly is a silver lining behind every cloud.