Roof leaks of Old Memories

Recently, heavy rains in the Eastern Cape found their way into our house through a crevice in the roof. Once the weather cleared, I climbed up to assess the damage, sealants in hand, ready to fix what the heavy rain had exposed. Up there, between patching cracks and checking for new leaks, my mind drifted to my childhood and to my father. He was there, and then one day he wasn’t. No warning, no gradual distance. Just absence. And with that absence came a lot of things I had to learn on my own, without ever being shown. I started thinking how life would have turned out if he were there, of course my case is different, death took him, not choice. I wondered how its like having someone there to teach, to guide, to share the small skills that end up shaping a life. But life doesn’t offer those alternate versions. It only offers what is, and what we do with it.