Yinka Ekundayo

Rumination,
I dream of my dad.
Can you see me?
A glimpse of another reality.

My experiences of the NHS flash past and other memories unravel.
Much time has passed; it also feels like yesterday.
I am back on the ward; hushed tones we are not the only family present
beeps from electrical equipment, no questions but time (given to us by the medical team).
We acknowledge that silence will follow an agreement from all of us around the bed.
Silence comes; it does not last.

A few weeks later at a new desk that’s not MY desk.
The clean desk policy gives a clinical feeling to the office space
as tears fall silently.
An announcement of a snap election by Theresa May’s government
brings the realisation, that there will be no phone call with my dad.
My personal link to a wealth of lived experiences, post and precolonial
enriching my understanding of the world. 

There have been other times when I have returned to that day, that ward.
I wonder about the questions I could have asked/could still ask.
My recent back issues, attempts to understand how my body works,
the importance of fascia, movement, and scar tissue
reminds me of my dad’s discomfort a year before his passing,
I know more now.

His recent visit in my dreams has brought a stillness.
Questions left unanswered persist.
Can you see me?
You……I ask.