Daddy,

Daddy had lived with diabetes for years and had also experienced episodes with his blood pressure and heart. Not long before his passing, he had been admitted to the hospital because of a heart-related issue. Despite the doctors’ warnings, he insisted on going to pay his final respects to his beloved cousin, because that was the kind of man he was loving, committed to family, and always willing to show up for the people he loved.

Afterwards, we moved him to Asaba to see a cardiologist. We were hopeful that he would recover and return home. But his condition became more difficult, and his legs began to swell. My brothers who lived abroad returned home, and looking back now, it felt as though something had called them back to him. He eventually became very weak and told us he could no longer continue. We took him to St. Luke’s Hospital, hoping he would receive the care he needed. His condition deteriorated, and he was eventually taken into the ICU.

Then came Ash Wednesday, February 18th. I was on a live prayer session when I suddenly felt strongly that I needed to go and pray with my father. I went to the hospital without knowing that those would be some of my final moments with him. Later that evening, at about 7:20 p.m., I received a call from the office asking me to come to the hospital. I thought they needed me to get something from the blood bank, as had happened before. But when I arrived, the doctor gently told me:

“His heart has stopped.”

For about fifteen minutes, I couldn’t speak. I could only cry.

I never imagined that the strong man I called my Iroko would leave us this way.

Only God knows the rest.
Go well, Nnam.