I can’t believe it’s been two years! It seems time has accelerated for us since it stopped for you. I miss you terribly!
So much has happened; good, evil, and unexplainable alike. Yet with the gift of today, I find myself with another opportunity to continue to model your example and “learn to do good; seek justice, rescue the oppressed, defend the orphan, plead for the widow.” (Isaiah 1:17)
Daddy is doing well; friends and family stopped by the house yesterday to help him celebrate his 85th birthday and I’m making great progress in my own recovery journey.
Last year I reflected a lot on time; how much of it we think we have, how we spend what we do have, with whom we spend it, and to what end.
While I’ve learned to focus less on the time I can’t control, the last few months have thought me to be even more intentional about the present. I’m relishing my own resulting transformation.
As I type this, I’m sitting in a coffee shop reflecting on fond memories of you, the lessons from your life, and your last hour.
Yesterday Daddy and I laughed and celebrated his birthday as best as we could. His phone rang incessantly. Many called to wish him a happy birthday. Some dropped by the house to fellowship with him and give gifts. He even enjoyed watching music videos of his favorite: The Uko Akpan Cultural Group
As much as I tried, and although I know Daddy feels full and blessed to see another year and be surrounded by friends and family, one point was glaring for me:
We’ve just completed a full revolution around the Sun since you departed this plane a year ago. 🥺
Not a day has gone by that I haven’t thought about you and seen your face. There have been rough days; Saturdays are the worst…as that’s the day God called you home. Some days I scroll through old text messages and pictures of you; or laugh at the funny videos we shared that you didn’t seem to realize were taking up all the memory on you phone.
Daddy and I have talked everyday since. Don’t worry, he’s okay. You saw my post yesterday: he’s eating well. He’s still doing his 6km walk 3-4 times a week. He’s taking his vitamins and getting his doctor’s checkups.
Your grandchildren are thriving too.
But we miss you terribly. 😩
Missing you has forced me to rethink “Time.” How much of it we think we have, how we spend what we do have (24hrs), with whom we spend it, and to what end.
Missing you has forced me to focus less on the time I can’t control (tomorrow).
You can’t even imagine the things the world has chosen to focus on just this year alone. One hint: It’s not “time.”
I keep asking myself, what would Mummy do? I know, for sure, you would pray first. Then you would talk with Daddy. Then you would act! We miss that about you…your decisiveness.
We are working hard to live the way you modeled. To be devoted to a cause, to be authentic, and to be purposeful.
Today you turn 84! Last night we chatted, like we have in some form everyday since we lost mum a year ago tomorrow. We thanked God for grace, for favor, for the strength to live each day we are given. We ended our chat acknowledging, if it’s God’s will to see today, we will do it all over again…and so here we are, it’s the 2nd of April.
You are an inspiration for a generation.
Your example as a father here on earth is why I can relate to God as a Heavenly Father.
Your peace in the midst of storms is why we understand the blessing that God promises to peacemakers.
Your heart for service is why we know it is better to give than to receive.
Your love for us allows us to understand God’s grace.
I thank God for the 84 years you’ve left fingerprints on all the lives God has placed on your path.
All my life today, October 31st, has always meant one thing…my mum’s birthday. This day in 1945 had to happen or you wouldn’t be reading this post. She was the vessel God chose.
Because of this day, as was our family tradition, I learned to appreciate exquisite Asian culture in Nigeria.
Because of this day (and many others), I observed ways husbands can make their spouses fill special.
Because of this day, I learned how special can be simple and simple can be special.
Mum would have turned 76 today. However, she completed her mission earlier this year.
There will be cake (dad’s making sure of that).
There will be prayers (because that’s what we do).
There will be moments of pure sadness, but also peace, and joy.
Because we will meet again…where everyday is today and we celebrate.
Today, I just want to give you your flowers. I woke up this morning to thoughts of perseverance and endurance and your image came to mind.
For over eight decades these words have marked your journey and your life. That you are now an institution is a testament, not just to your efforts, but to the plans God had for you from the beginning (Jeremiah 29:11)
I know this new chapter you’re in will take some significant adjustment. Your soulmate, life partner, and confidante, recently went home to be with the Lord. Each day we learn new things mum took care of that we have to now figure out. I like your sense of adventure in doing just that. And as you keep saying, “we will figure it out.”
Each day we chat to check-in on each other and I am inspired, as always, by your resilience. You’ve lived long enough to see meaning in everything. Long enough to possess a keen sense of discernment. But most important, you’ve walked with God enough to know “love bears all things.”
This Father’s Day, I honor you as the Bible commands. I thank you for the earthly model of fatherhood you have been to me. I relate to God the Father because you’ve shown me how. I try to follow the golden rule because you’ve lived that way all my life.
NOTE: This was the eulogy I gave at my mum’s funeral. I’ve edited it for this blog. Didn’t think I’d make it through it. Mum knew it too…so I ran out of time and cut the actual speech short. Thank goodness for Catholic services where time is of the essence. 😉
To the God who made me, the Son who saved me, and the Holy Spirit who sustains me, I pray that these words and the meditations of my heart will be acceptable in God’s sight; my rock and my redeemer; this is Your servants prayer.
Let me start by giving thanks for my family and the network of close friends whose support and care these past few weeks have been an incredible source of comfort and strength. All of you have done the real work to make the series of events culminating in mum’s burial, a reality. My family will remain forever grateful and appreciative.
I am also thankful to those who attended in person or watched via livestream; who knew and cared for my mum too…some who also called her “mummy”. Your presence and support both humbles, and inspires, our family.
As one would expect, mum’s passing has been very challenging to process emotionally. Spiritually, I know, and have acknowledged, God’s sovereignty and control; “that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to God’s purpose.” Emotionally, I’ve struggled with the hole my mum has left behind. Knowing my dad needs my strength, and I, his; we’ve tried to be each others’ pillars to lean on over the last few weeks.
Losing one’s mother is painful. Grief comes in waves as I pause to stare at a picture of her, remember her laughter, or her stern words of caution. So, you will understand that attempting to speak to my mother’s entire life will be too difficult; and so, what I would like to share from my perspective may add to what many already know…that she was a GOOD and INSPIRING woman.
When I think about my childhood, I recall how big a presence my mum had in my life and in our home. That I was a precious gift to her reflected in the name she chose for me which translates in English to “God’s Will.” In a society that celebrates women for having multiple children, I was her one and only, and so she poured all that she had into me. Trust me, I was far from spoiled, she made sure of that. But I was deeply loved. That love wasn’t necessarily always in her words, Nigerian parents don’t always do that; it was also in her actions. And those actions have taught me some of the most important life lessons that have stayed with me till this day. I’d like to share three of those lessons.
I. Devotion
My mum taught me the power of devotion. She was a devoted Catholic who finished her life’s race on Holy Saturday after having observed the 40-day Lenten period. She was a devoted partner to my father, her husband of 51 years and 9 hours. She was a devoted civil servant and compatriot; having left the shores of Nigeria in the mid-1960s to study abroad and return to serve her fatherland and help rebuild a post-civil war nation where peace and justice should reign. She was devoted to her calling as a Good Samaritan. I remember growing up and every year the number of people that came to the New Year’s Day gathering at our family home kept growing. It showed the extent to which her, and my dad’s, sacrificial support to others was positively impacting lives. She had an incredible devotion to ensuring I had every opportunity to reach my fullest potential. No matter what it was, leaving Lagos at 10 years of age to attend military School; or leaving again at 18 to return to the country of my birth; no matter what it was, my mother was my biggest fan. She believed God for me. I remember the tears we shed at the airport years ago when I was leaving shortly after my 18th birthday. It pained me to watch her cry and I searched within to find the right words to say to stop her from sobbing. All I could muster was “Mummy, I promise I won’t let you down.”
Years later, while at university, I learned a quote that sums up my mum’s devotion perfectly:
“Once the task has begun, never rest until it’s done. Be the labor great or small, do it well or not at all.”
II. Authenticity
My mum taught me the power of authenticity. With her, what you saw was what you got. Dad would sometimes say, jokingly, that she wasn’t a diplomat. To which I would counter that she was the kind of friend you wanted to have…one who would always tell you the truth…with as much love as she could muster. And when she knew she couldn’t, she would wait until God gave her permission. My mother lived authentically. While she fully understood cultural tradition, societal norms, and the role of women in the society she grew up in, she had also lived in a world that exposed her to the best and worst in humanity. She dared to remain her authentic self no matter what. She didn’t let the restrictive walls of society slow her down. She thus, chose to only compete with the person she saw in the mirror every day. I remember once coming home from primary school and asking my mum why I rode the bus when some of the other kids were dropped off by drivers in expensive cars since I thought my dad was a “Director General.” She was flabbergasted by the audacity to even ask. She looked at me like I had done or inferred the worst thing…even reminding me of how both her and my dad detested comparisons. She taught me to be comfortable in my own skin. To live a life worthy of the calling to which I’d been called. Not to spend my life buying things I didn’t need, with money I didn’t have, to impress people I didn’t even know.
In essence, I learned from my mum’s life, that “when you’re trying to be like everyone else, the best you can hope for is second place. So be yourself!” Be authentic.
III. Living Purposefully
My mum taught me the power of purposeful living. As I look back at mum’s life and try to re-live some of it through our family photo albums, I clearly see someone who moved, loved, gave, worked, and even walked around the neighborhood with purpose. I have been going through some of her diaries and it won’t surprise those who knew her to hear that she wrote everything down. When she woke up, who she met, why they met, and the outcome of the meeting; there was no one better at taking notes. She was the most descriptive storyteller. She also never wanted to waste time, which made her the most impatient driver I’ve ever encountered. She was also the best driver I had ever met…I actually believed, had she not been carrying me home from the hospital after my birth, she would have driven herself.
My mother expected the same purposeful living from those around her. It probably felt like too high a standard, but you have to understand her own journey to see why living on purpose was her standard. When she went to the market, she was thinking of more than her own household as she would share items with people she knew that needed them. She wasn’t a hoarder of information; when she learned something new, you knew you were going to receive an informational text from her. When she got involved with the Women’s organizations at her church, I knew her membership wouldn’t be passive, but that she would instantly make a difference. Sharing her wisdom, helping those in need, encouraging others, and most-importantly following up. She was the Queen of the “follow-up.” Not only would she check in on you, she would check in again, and again without being intrusive but until there was improvement.
I could go on and on, but some verses in the Book of Proverbs, Chapter 31 captures her perfectly:
• My dad had full confidence in her and she lacked nothing of value. She brought him good, not harm, all the days of her life.
• She set about her work vigorously and she was beyond capable of accomplishing her tasks.
• She opened her arms to the poor and extended her hands to the needy.
• Her husband is respected, and she confidently stood beside him in partnership.
• She was always clothed with strength and dignity.
• She spoke with wisdom and watched over the affairs of her household; she didn’t eat the bread of idleness.
• We, her children arise and call her blessed; and so, does her husband who joins me in praising her as we know she revered God.
Moving Forward
I’ll close this post with a quick thought on death and how I hope all of us can move forward. I write this because my mum has transitioned to the great beyond. It is at times like this, we have a chance to take a moment to reflect.
Not a day has gone by since April 3rd that I haven’t thought about my mum’s passing. It’s on my mind when I awake and throughout the day I see and hear reminders. I fall asleep thinking about her. I know I’m not alone in this regard. Years ago, I served in a combat zone where the idea of death was all too real to me. The reality of it shaped so many decisions and choices that would follow. As I pen this I’m reminded, yet again, of our own limited time on this side of heaven. We owe it to ourselves to focus on what really matters. Letting go of the frustrations of daily life and finding causes to which we will be fully devoted. Live authentically and spend the finite time we have with the people we love the most. Live purposefully by serving others with compassion. I know my mum would support this approach.
I will miss her terribly. But I know she will always be with me. Her devotion, her authenticity, and her purposeful living will always remain in me. For that, I am deeply grateful.
She finished her undergraduate degree from the University of Nebraska during an era of racism and bigotry that was strange to her. She’d arrive there thanks to a scholarship from the United States Agency for International Development (USAID). I remember the story of how excited she was to meet her first American roommate. She sat eagerly in her freshman dorm that weekend morning. The young lady walked in, her parents behind her, my mom beaming with excitement. She looked at mum, saw the color of her skin and turned to her parents and yelled: “I am not rooming with that!”
I don’t know if she’s ever gotten over the shock of that day, that moment. Nevertheless, it didn’t stop her. She had come to the U.S. with a clear purpose. She’d been presented with a great opportunity and she wasn’t going to let obstacles in another land get in her way. Why? There was a civil war going on in her own country. Millions would die. Loved ones would disappear. The country would need to rebuild. And she was going to be a part of that effort.
Along the way life happened. She got married to a dashing young Nigerian with similar aspirations who was there for his PhD and was a standout leader within the African Student’s Association. She went on to Purdue to obtain a Master’s degree only a year later. They moved to California, had me, and returned home shortly thereafter to do the work they felt called to do.
Today she turns 75! Happy birthday sweet mother! I am grateful for this legend in my life as she sits at home thanking God and celebrating this milestone. I join her in reflecting on her journey thus far. She did her part working in the Nigerian civil service for 35 years despite the glass ceiling.
Long retired, since 2001, I join her today as she reflects on the Nigeria she worked so hard to help develop. I mourn with her as she looks out at the streets of the city I grew up in, the brutality against unarmed men and women, the people longing for better qualities of life, and the society that prays for an end to self-serving leadership. I join her as she prays for a generation of leaders that will arise, like she did years before, to continue the work.
Nevertheless, she continues to serve and continues to give because she knows the work is not yet done. She knows leadership matters. She knows example matters. She knows her purpose and as long as the good Lord gives her breath, she will continue to walk in that calling.
My parents have been visiting for over a month and I’ve never seen them so relaxed. From NJ to NC, to TN, and then to VA. What started out as a planned visit to my son’s HS graduation in Europe, turned out to be the most priceless of moments a surviving son could have with his living parents.
The last three weeks have been the longest consecutive time I’ve spent with them “alone” since the three of us left northern CA for Nigeria with me as a toddler! Okay, that was a long time ago. Even I didn’t realize it’d been that long until dad mentioned it. We’ve had pockets of time together over the years but never more than two weeks (and never really alone) where I was the novelty visitor who hadn’t been home in a while; getting served all his favorite meals from childhood or catching up with old friends of my parents.
This time though has been different. It’s just been us three for the most time. I’m the one cooking or getting the meals. Taking dad out for a pedicure and haircut. Shopping with mum for whatever she wants. Binge watching talent and dance shows on Hulu or Netflix. Sitting to listen to mind-numbing news and comparing world cultures. Laughing as they enjoy yet another Chick-fil-A salad. Playfully taking turns to alter the room temperature because I like it cold and they don’t. Then watching mum wear a sweater inside in the middle of summer. I’ve cherished every single moment. It’s not the length of time we’ve had, but the quality of that time. Nothing planned. Just being present.
My son also had a special bonding moment; one I never could have envisioned. On the summer before he heads off to college, he got to spend a week alone with both sets of his grandparents under one roof. I don’t know many people who’ve had that experience. Typically you see one set of grandparents at a time. But this time, it was all four with just him. I pray he too cherishes the vitality of the moment. Only God knows if he’ll ever have that again. I pray he does…maybe when he graduates college.
God couldn’t have orchestrated a better couple to bring me into this world. They are simply the best! I am who I am because of who they are: servants of God who answered their individual calls to serve humanity as an educator, an animal scientist, a management consultand, as philanthropists, and as my parents.
Like for my son, I don’t know if such an opportunity will ever happen again…I pray God allows it.
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