My Father's Diary

Then, there was this chasm in me in need of filling, but I didn't know what to fill it with. At 24, I was an award winning Journalist, renowned for top investigative stories. I headed one of the largest online print media organizations and in addition, I've had the opportunity to interview masters of industries in; business and finance, religion, politics, academia, and entertainment. What more could a single man ever wish for? But these achievements never filled the hole within me. Everyone saw a man who had everything going well for him. But behind my smiles, news stories and syndicated columns in the media, there was a weary soul burdened by emptiness. A soul seeking delight - something to fill it.

Life soon became meaningless as I passed each day weak with a thickening cloud of darkness clouding my mind. I took delight in weed to occupy the hole. A sniff catapults me into a world of ecstasy where I'm freed of the fetters of meaninglessness plaguing my mortal existence - an escape from reality. But as soon as its effect wore off, I found myself in my mortal cage. I never bothered about its after effect as it felt good.

 I soon turned a full-blown addict. My violent attitude made the editorial board relieve me of my duties. At 26, I resided in a mental rehabilitation center. I was chained like a wild animal to my bed. I often broke out in laughter in the dead of the night, awakening other people with mental issues like myself. At times, I would howl like a Wolf or bark. My life took a downward spiral.

Freedom, that would transform me, came. I was on the sick bed emaciated as I had not been feeding well. Breathing was a struggle. Dr Olaide Abiola stood by my bedside but I couldn't speak as the words that tried to emerge died on my lips - I was weak. Tears streamed down her cheeks; we've been friends since our days at the University of Ibadan. A member of one of those campus fellowships, she often invited me but I turned down her invites as I was an atheist. Their babbling in unknown tongues drew mockery and scorn from me but this didn't deter her from preaching to me and inviting me to her fellowship. We would later part ways after graduation. I delved fully into Journalism after my programme in Religious studies while she stuck to Psychiatry.

"I pray you recover" she said to me and left to attend to other patients. I was left alone. By my pillow was a copy of the Bible - a book I had launched attacks on in the media. A force, I can't explain, spurred me to pick it up. I managed to prop myself on my arms, pick the book. Cradling it in my arms, I opened it and suddenly my eyes fell on:

"Jesus said to them, “Very truly I tell you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life in you."

The cloud of darkness vanished as I absorbed the words. The force which propelled me to read broke the wall I had built against God in my heart and I was ready to embrace him. For the first time, I prayed and as I did, my health returned though I still felt weak. I continued reading the book, feeding on it and absorbing its contents till I finished the New Testament.

In a week's time, I was discharged. So, dear son, looking back to the past, I think there's a food a man can have and will never go hungry again - God's will scripted in the Bible. Eat this food and you'll never have to worry about food again. I pray your heart is strengthened when you read this journal.

Your loving father.