To My Zizi.
March 22, 2021
by Ify Obianwu
There are simply no words to capture what you meant to me or convey the full weight of my grief over your passing. When I met you over fifteen years ago I knew at once, that "you na correct Pekin" and I know many men have a wonderful wife but no one has ever had a better one than I.
Ngozi you were simply amazing – beautiful, witty, highly intelligent, quirky, stubborn and always immense fun to be with. I am grateful for every minute we had together.
We shared a friendship, a bond that no one else can understand and together we tore down barriers of creed and culture, and at once turned all of it into love and laughter and fights. You always said family mattered and true in your unassuming way, made everything around you beautiful.
As cliché as it may sound, Ngozi, you were my “Fine Girl". My happiest years were those spent with you. You gave me the experience of being clearly understood, supported and completely and utterly loved. You were my number one fan, blowing my trumpet. When I was worried, you said it would be ok. When I wasn’t sure what to do, you figured it out. And even there on my sickbed when I neared my wit's end, you would hold my hand and reassure me that everything would be okay.
I remember fondly those hours spent on skype calls, the joy of welcoming you at the airport when you came home. I shall never forget the dance, the laughter, and the plans. I miss your presence, your companionship, the notification on my phone of a new ping from you, the joy of watching Manchester United play…your love.
You see, love is both cruel and uplifting. We are dead without it and yet made so much more vulnerable to pain for experiencing it. However if the day I walked down that aisle with you someone had told me that this would happen, I would still have walked down that aisle.
The beautiful flowers you have planted in my memory will be treasured for the rest of my lifetime.
Alas, my love or wits could not save you. You fought long and hard though. You did not want to die. I did not want to let go either. You were confident this would end in praise. But the creator thought your work here was done and decided to call you to Himself, to swell the number of the Saints triumphant.
I am consoled however by the fact that we’ve buried only your body. Your spirit, your beautiful soul, your uncommon ability to calm the storm is still with us. You live on in the stories those who knew you are sharing how you touched their lives, in the memories of our families who you touched most closely. Things will never be the same for us, yes, but we all have been made better because you were in our lives.
“My grief journey has no destination. I will not ‘get over it.’ The understanding that I don’t have to be done is liberating. I will mourn this death for the rest of my life.”
But I will not stay drained by grief. I assure you that I will be strong for you and together (families), we shall make you proud.
With all my heart,
Your husband ...
Ngozi you were simply amazing – beautiful, witty, highly intelligent, quirky, stubborn and always immense fun to be with. I am grateful for every minute we had together.
We shared a friendship, a bond that no one else can understand and together we tore down barriers of creed and culture, and at once turned all of it into love and laughter and fights. You always said family mattered and true in your unassuming way, made everything around you beautiful.
As cliché as it may sound, Ngozi, you were my “Fine Girl". My happiest years were those spent with you. You gave me the experience of being clearly understood, supported and completely and utterly loved. You were my number one fan, blowing my trumpet. When I was worried, you said it would be ok. When I wasn’t sure what to do, you figured it out. And even there on my sickbed when I neared my wit's end, you would hold my hand and reassure me that everything would be okay.
I remember fondly those hours spent on skype calls, the joy of welcoming you at the airport when you came home. I shall never forget the dance, the laughter, and the plans. I miss your presence, your companionship, the notification on my phone of a new ping from you, the joy of watching Manchester United play…your love.
You see, love is both cruel and uplifting. We are dead without it and yet made so much more vulnerable to pain for experiencing it. However if the day I walked down that aisle with you someone had told me that this would happen, I would still have walked down that aisle.
The beautiful flowers you have planted in my memory will be treasured for the rest of my lifetime.
Alas, my love or wits could not save you. You fought long and hard though. You did not want to die. I did not want to let go either. You were confident this would end in praise. But the creator thought your work here was done and decided to call you to Himself, to swell the number of the Saints triumphant.
I am consoled however by the fact that we’ve buried only your body. Your spirit, your beautiful soul, your uncommon ability to calm the storm is still with us. You live on in the stories those who knew you are sharing how you touched their lives, in the memories of our families who you touched most closely. Things will never be the same for us, yes, but we all have been made better because you were in our lives.
“My grief journey has no destination. I will not ‘get over it.’ The understanding that I don’t have to be done is liberating. I will mourn this death for the rest of my life.”
But I will not stay drained by grief. I assure you that I will be strong for you and together (families), we shall make you proud.
With all my heart,
Your husband ...