You stare at the picture of your mama who died in May 2020. Her eyes are still as beautiful as the waterfronts of the black sea. You can see her iris highlighting the compassion she had grown for a lifetime. Match it with her smile and recall the last time you corporeally laid your eyes on it. You had a video call; you were at home, lying on the couch and she was somewhere in Kigali at the hospital. Dive deeper into the memories and recall how she told you that she was not doing fine even though she tried to hide it with a sluggish grin. You knew she had diabetes but this time she was getting worse with the Coronavirus she had tested positive for, four days earlier. Recall how startled you were and how you strived to conceal your emotions but ended up shedding tears. Then, suddenly feel a grip on your torso and turn around in a haste with the tears still rolling down your cheeks. Your papa is sitting next to you on the settee. He has grown an agitated and yet contorted face that resembles your grandpa’s. You discern him taking off his big eyeglasses and sliding a little closer to you. He clears his throat and stares at you with understanding.
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