Last Sunday was my best Sunday (possibly even best day) of 2010. I awoke at 5am to spend a few more precious minutes with my brother who I hardly ever see, he was returning to Nigeria after a “long” 3 day break with us. Having packed the chicken I made for mum and said our goodbyes, it was only normal for me to tumble back into my warm bed considering we were all up jisting till 2am. But when I looked around I realised I was in an oasis of peace – kids still sleeping and hubby out, thought it would be best to recollect my jumbled up thoughts and spill it on paper.
I love to journal. I love to write, period, but journaling carries even more weight than mere writing. This is where no holds are barred, all thoughts are poured on paper and the only other person present is the Lord. God speaks to me and teaches me stuff I would otherwise miss as I buzz around my activities daily. Stuff like the fact that I am perfect for God. Not just perfect but beautiful. God points out how talented I am. He shows me visions of where my life is going to, if I get off my behind to do what I should. This is where all doubts and insecurities about my abilities are severely dealt with- and they are plenty- doubts about my abilities as a mother, a friend or a business woman or even as a child of God.
And so I write happily away. Layers of pent up fears and aged stresses are peeled away, I have no idea that thousands of miles away in a house in California is a grieving family. Wife pregnant, children very young. It’s members are still trying to come to terms with the awful fact that their head was diagnosed with an aggressive form of cancer. And while everyone was busy praying and being baffled, Emeka Dillibe died.
Now I’m not going to pretend that he and I go so way back that I’ll miss him daily, yes we did go way back to secondary school but didn’t stay in touch. I feel sad because his entire life has now been condensed into a few pages on in-memory-of.com. Now if Emeka had spent his life sitting by the wayside waiting for whatever life threw at him to be aimed perfectly into his open palms, we could possibly fit his life on one page along with a few black-and-white passport photos. But that wasn’t his life. He’s was a rich, colourful, generous one. The type that changed the course of other people’s lives- people who would otherwise have become nothing but sidekicks sitting by the wayside with palms wide open.
Emeka will actually be missed, i.e people will notice he is no longer around. Somewhere in a village in Nigeria, children’s lives are being touched daily because he single-handedly refurbished the school. And the church. And he set up a youth charity. And he coached under 14s in soccer. And he was a father, a father to be, a husband, a son, a brother and Lord knows what more. As I read the memorial I had to stop and think about your’s truly and what she was bringing to this table called life. I would like to be described as selfless, influential, honest- in fact every adjective that this man was described with. Yes I may not have known him that well, but when I grow up, I want to be like Emeka.
Rest in Peace brother!