If you were here today we would definitely be happier. Still missing  you

I still see your departure just like you traveled for a day but the truth remains that I will tell you more about the vacuum when I see you again. You are forever in my heart

Nna'm
Death is not the end. You live to live again.

Today's particularly daunting and dawning
You weren't perfect but you were definitely worthy and enough
Chief wey dey pamper
Chief of doting
Chief petname creator and caller
Odugwu Nne'm
The Chief OC.

You loved your Oriaku Forever. She misses you shitless andd probably even loves you more in Death. We do our best to take care of her.

You left me with the best brothers a girl could dream and a hot shot sister (Ada' baby)

I wish you were here today
You would have been mighty proud. You told me if I did it, you'd be proud. I DID IT and a little more, even then I'm just getting started... There's so much more we could have dreamed

Nwa Nyenwa
I returned to you, I only hope you return to me soon too ( reincarnation sentiments)

Nna'm Ka odi
Today I accept You're not here anymore but I'll never not know that DEATH IS NOT THE END. Awu'mmadu bu Ife oku gbara.

Right now, I'm listening to Lucky Dube's "Remember Me". It's known fact that Lucky's songs are mostly of the melancholic variant. In this particular one, he talks in first person about a character whose father "left for the city many years ago" with a "promise to come back and take care of" the family.

I reckon the relocation will be in search of greener pastures. Many of us can identify with this. Daddy, you also moved from our rural hometown in Imo state to urban Onitsha and Lagos, to improve your lot in life. Only, you did not leave us behind. You took us all with you - me, my siblings, my mom, all. God bless you. I dare say that exposing us, long term, to urban, and not rural, life is one of the most significant factors in the making of me. It won't be farfetched to surmise that without it I would certainly be a lower version of my current self.

But city life is not the thing about Lucky Dube's song that strikes me. The song goes on to narrate how years have gone by without a sign of the father, and how the mother died of heart attack when she learnt her husband had married again. Now, as the only one left in the family, all efforts to connect with the father has failed, no thanks to the new woman in the father's life.

To further double down on tragedy, the song takes a tune that is essentially a stretch of sad notes. Lucky is a genius. The song's lyrics and its tune are in perfect sync, piercing the listener's soul and taking him to a place where tragedy, sorrow and despair loom large, manifest as the air we breathe.

It's little wonder then that this song reminds me not of our move to Lagos but of your absence, dad. Yes, that you're no longer with us in person. That you're somewhere else. It could be nowhere or some other place. If the latter, what are you doing right now? Do you remember us? Are you happy and comfortable? My strongest inclination is that you're just unconscious. But then, what does that really mean? Like some sleep, I guess. I've asked time and time again, why did you have to leave? Why do people even die, leaving behind such unspeakable sorrow, longing and despair in their loved ones? Is it really a fact that I will NEVER see my dad again? How is that even an option? How am I supposed to come to terms with that? All questions. No answer.

Daddy, I may not know where you are right now, but the memory of you will always be with me. I'll tell UG and Munachi what a great man they had as grandfather. Your story will be told from generation to generation in our family. Your legacy will echo from coast to coast. We'll always remember you. In turn I ask, as Lucky Dube sang, "daddy wherever you are, remember me. In whatever you do, I love you". God bless you daddy. May your soul rest in perfect peace.