One of the most horrible moments of my life is growing up without a father. While I was not really young when Dad died (12 years old), life afterwards seemed so crazy that I never knew all of us would survive. Every time I remember what life was like, I cry, including now that I’m putting this into writing.
On 17th of August 2012, my Dad died. My world changed from that moment on because I would feel that space for years. My sisters, Adedoja and Faderera and I would always be the first set of students to pay school fees when dad was alive. We used to have few quantitative and verbal reasoning textbooks in my primary school that we always compete to buy it before anybody is. I was always the only one to get in my class. I would attend to my assignment, and read in the sitting room with Dad. He loved me because I was always asking one or two questions from him and he would always tell him most times from experience.
Dad would document every single event. He would even tell us the exact date he did small things from planting a particular crop, hunting expedition to buying new things. Unfortunately, the rest of my living from the year he died was bitter. If I had laughed in between that year until I gained admission to university, it was probably good days when I catch the biggest fish among my peers when we went fishing in Ayinrin River. Nobody should pass through this pain of being fatherless. It was a sad moment that I would never complain of my wants and desires to my mum because I would not want her to feel bad about Dad’s ‘absence’. I worked hard with my peers to do menial jobs.
I remember cutting grass for people, heading and packing of woods with chainsaw merchants and operators from Ayinrin Alamuye, Ayinrin Adedeji, Agbon Jedege and all. Breadfruit, known as gbere in Yoruba, has always been a no for me. Unfortunately, it became my favourite after Dad’s demise. I would cry a lot of time while eating gbere.
I would come home with money. It would have been a better history if mum would live to see the dividends of her investment in me, especially. On June 17, 2024, I lost my mum! The expectation of every struggling person is to take care of his parents. Unfortunately, I would not be able to fulfil this no matter what I do or who I become in the future. My world has been shattered and everything and every second becomes useless.
While this has been battling my mind for a very long time, it is also imperative I put this out to make awareness about taking care of your elders. My mum is my motivation and all my activities towards the elderly care campaigns are inspired by her. My experience living with her and every struggle shapes my desire to keep this awareness up. Unfortunately when she died, I already gave up the campaign and never attend to any digital work till now. I will keep preaching to every young minds out there to let us take care of our elders. This fulfilment in itself is joy and there is no joy that is close to this.Through tourism, I will keep increasing awareness about elderly care!
Every time, this feels so fresh and it’s still hard to believe. I wish you well, and feel we could talk one more time. Rest in peace mum, I love you so much. I wish you could live longer and witness my success. I wish you see the dividends of your struggle. All my plans died in a single day and this is so horrible. May Almighty Allah console you and forgive you all your shortcomings and make you dwell in Al Jannah. Your love is the utmost in my heart. I will forever cherish you, my Queen!
