Sixteen years. The ocean breeze whispers the memory, a constant reminder of the day my father left this world. Sixteen years of questions of searching for meaning in an empty chair. The beach, once a place of joy with him, now echoes with the hollowness of his absence.
It's a story many of us share – the loss of a loved one, a parent, a friend – a gaping hole that time can't seem to mend. We walk through life, carrying the weight of "what ifs" and unspoken words. MM, Pius, Baba Ghana, Aunt Rita, Pops, Semilore, Biggie – each name a phantom echo, a reminder of love cut short.
But here's the truth I've learned: love doesn't die. It transforms, weaving itself into the fabric of who we are. The pain, yes, it lingers. But it can also be a source of strength, a reminder to cherish every precious moment with those who hold our hearts.
Life is a fleeting gift. Don't let fear or silence rob you of expressing your love. Tell your parents, your siblings, your friends – tell them you love them. Hold them close. Because one day, the tide of time may wash away the chance to do so.
The ache might never truly vanish. But we learn to carry it, to honor it by pouring that love forward. We find purpose in the void, living a life that reflects the love they shared with us.
Dear Diopa, it's been 16 freaking years without you and the many promises we heard at your passing but here we are, waxing stronger in purpose and success, pursuing the things that are noble and joyful. This is for Pops, and for everyone who carries a piece of their loved ones in their hearts. May we find strength in their memory, and may their love continue to guide us on this journey.
Always remember, that your true friends will be there always, love on them and celebrate them. I think, I don’t have to mention names and God bless everyone whose impact has brought me here.
Raising a Toast to all who became an Angel, Keep watching over and keep resting.
Olajide