HOW I FOUND CLOSURE SIX YEARS AFTER MY MUM'S PASSING.
I have got to admit, I am a mama’s
boy. I was raised almost exclusively by my mother because my parents were
separated. My siblings and I grew up in the same house and many Saturdays were
spent swapping funny and/or bizarre stories and showing one another the latest
dance moves we had learned.
There is a huge age bracket
between my siblings and me, so that meant that at some point growing up, it
became just my mother and I left at home. Everyone else was either studying at
the university or had begun a life of their own.
Every single day I felt my mother’s
love and I knew I was always her priority. There were many things that I adored
about her. For example, the fact that she was extremely hardworking. She was a
serial entrepreneur and that meant trying many businesses and failing a
lot. The fish farm and the snail farm were
not exactly successful and eventually, we ate the stock ourselves. Nevertheless,
there were other businesses that thrived. The pure water factory, the flour wholesale
business.
My mum would wake up in the
middle of the night to run the pure water factory herself whenever power was restored; to
save on diesel during the day.
She was a shining example of
resilience and one of the reasons I excelled at school was to make her proud. Then in 2012, she died suddenly; a few months after my graduation.
No jokes, I was shaken to my very
core. My mum was always there and now she
was not. In trying to cope with my loss, I built a wall. I was so hurt by my
loss that I did not want to ever hurt again. I was determined not to get so
attached to anybody ever.
Now, Six years after my mother’s
death I am ready to bloom again.
Why?
Because it is naïve to think that
I can stay away from pain or loss forever.
In January, I read Michelle Obama’s
Becoming. I felt her pain when she described the
experience of losing her roommate and friend Suzanne Alele to cancer at 26. Similarly,
In Phil Knight’s Shoe Dog. Phil, the man who founded and built the Nike empire,
shared what it meant to lose Steve Prefontaine who was a friend to Phil and a brand
ambassador to Nike in its early days.
This evening, as I rounded off
Gabrielle Union’s book, We are Going to Need More Wine, I started to get
emotional as she described the last hours she spent with a friend who was dying
from Breast cancer.
I thought, Shit! We are all going to die. It was an aha moment for me. I
think that we forget that loss is ubiquitous. And that the pain of loss is the
same.
There is a quote from Paul
Kalanithi’s book, When Breath Becomes Air that comes to mind a lot:
Even if I’m dying, until I actually die, I am still living
The truth is that there are other
people in my inner circle whose death would hurt like hell and one day
(hopefully very far away), it would be my turn and it will hurt some people
like hell.
This is what I have learnt. You
will be useless to the world if you try to inoculate yourself from pain. Every pain has a purpose.
I will close with a quote from Alicia key’s
Album, the Element of Freedom which I think buttresses the need for us humans
to rise above our pain.
“And the day came when the risk
to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom,
this is the element of freedom”-Alicia Keys*.
Thank you.
*Quote was originally by Anais Nin
-Tobi Amokeodo
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