Hulda Rhema

HEALTH PERSONNEL, INSPIRATIONAL WRITER, CREATIVE DIRECTOR (Fashion illustrator).

[Hulda Rhema @Emily46645]

The first night after we buried my dad.
Everyone left.

The canopy was gone. The plastic chairs were stacked.
The pot of rice was scraped empty, the speakers were silent.

And the house remembered how to be quiet again. 👇

My mum said “go and sleep.”
I went to his room instead.

His wrapper was still on the bed. Folded.
Like he’d come back and wear it tomorrow.
It still smelled like him. Starched. Him.

I didn’t cry.
I was cried out.
From the hospital. From the service. From the “sorry for your loss” line I’d heard 200 times.

That night there were no tears left.
Just a weight in my chest that had nowhere to go.

I sat on his bed and listened.
No coughing from the parlor.
No radio news at 4pm.
No him shouting “who ate my Agege bread?!”

Grief isn’t the wailing.
Grief is the silence after the noise stops.

I picked up his phone.
1% battery. 37 missed calls.
All from people who didn’t know yet.

I didn’t charge it.
I let it die with him.
Some things aren’t meant to be updated.

Around 2am my phone buzzed.
It was my bank. “Salary alert.”
I laughed. Then I felt guilty for laughing.
Then I realized: the world doesn’t stop. Even when yours does.

He would have said “Collect your money and go and sleep.”

Nobody warns you about the first night after the burial.
Not the funeral. The after.
When the mourning becomes private.
When you realize grief is not an event. It’s an address you just moved into.

If you’re in that house tonight:
You don’t have to be strong. You just have to breathe.

[Hulda Rhema @Emily46645]

I'm so sorry for your loss, Ruthiana. That moment when the world just stops your description captured it so powerfully. The way grief reshapes but never fully leaves... I felt that deeply reading this. May your dad's soul continue resting in perfect peace, and may his memories bring you more comfort than pain as the years go by. Sending you a big hug .

[Ruthiana @AmgbapuRut69274]

I remember that cold Monday morning like it was yesterday.

Sometimes I wonder if there were signs in my mother’s voice during our first call that morning. Maybe if I had listened more carefully, I would have noticed that she was carrying a burden too heavy to say over the phone.

I was getting ready for work when she called. Because I was rushing out, she said she would call me back later.

The day began like every other Monday. I got to the office, attended our departmental meeting, and settled behind my desk, ready to start work.

Then my phone rang.

It was Mum.

I answered casually, expecting the usual conversation. I was living alone, two states away from home, and she often called to check on me.

The first thing she asked was, “Are you seated?”

I laughed lightly and told her no, but that she could go ahead.

There was a brief pause.

Then she said the words that shattered my world.

“Papa is dead.”

In that moment, everything around me seemed to stop.

The voices in the office faded. The sounds disappeared. Time stood still.

I lowered myself into the nearest chair because my legs suddenly felt too weak to carry me.

I couldn’t speak.

I couldn’t cry.

I couldn’t even process what I had just heard.

How could my father be gone?

How could a man who had always been there suddenly become a memory?

Five years have passed since that phone call.

Five years of missing him.

Five years of wishing I could hear his voice one more time.

Five years of learning that grief doesn’t really leave—it simply changes shape.

And even today, I can still hear my mother’s voice on the other end of that call.

“Papa is dead.”

Some words never stop echoing.

[CFC💙DANZEE🤝 @EkpeDaniel8]

@Emily46645 It’s was a cold night after my mom burial, it’s not easy losing a loved one

[Hulda Rhema @Emily46645]

@Ramsey_Chuks Thank you dear

[Hulda Rhema @Emily46645]

The first night after we buried my dad.
Everyone left.

The canopy was gone. The plastic chairs were stacked.
The pot of rice was scraped empty, the speakers were silent.

And the house remembered how to be quiet again. 👇

My mum said “go and sleep.”
I went to his room instead.

His wrapper was still on the bed. Folded.
Like he’d come back and wear it tomorrow.
It still smelled like him. Starched. Him.

I didn’t cry.
I was cried out.
From the hospital. From the service. From the “sorry for your loss” line I’d heard 200 times.

That night there were no tears left.
Just a weight in my chest that had nowhere to go.

I sat on his bed and listened.
No coughing from the parlor.
No radio news at 4pm.
No him shouting “who ate my Agege bread?!”

Grief isn’t the wailing.
Grief is the silence after the noise stops.

I picked up his phone.
1% battery. 37 missed calls.
All from people who didn’t know yet.

I didn’t charge it.
I let it die with him.
Some things aren’t meant to be updated.

Around 2am my phone buzzed.
It was my bank. “Salary alert.”
I laughed. Then I felt guilty for laughing.
Then I realized: the world doesn’t stop. Even when yours does.

He would have said “Collect your money and go and sleep.”

Nobody warns you about the first night after the burial.
Not the funeral. The after.
When the mourning becomes private.
When you realize grief is not an event. It’s an address you just moved into.

If you’re in that house tonight:
You don’t have to be strong. You just have to breathe.

[Hulda Rhema @Emily46645]

@GOLDBABYO My family has had similar ‘weird feeling’ moments that saved us too. Intuition is real thank God you all paid attention.

[Gold🤍🌚 @GOLDBABYO]

when I was a teenager, my parent were STRICT. I couldn’t go anywhere if it wasn’t fully vetted (I’m so thankful for that).
But there was this one weekend where my parents had a black tie party and I begged and begged to go to my friend’s home while they went out. They said yes!! I couldn’t believe it.

My mom put on her gown, dad put on his suit, I got ready. Minutes before we were about to leave.. my spirit felt off. I went to their room and was like, hey guys, idk I don’t want to go.

[Hulda Rhema @Emily46645]

@ProzilJorg Real unity comes when we judge people by their character and actions, not just their label. Peace and better societies aren't built by winning arguments they're built by living the values we claim to believe.

[Mr. Jorg @ProzilJorg]

How did proving we’re the right religion become more important than treating people right?

Sometimes I wonder if religion is bringing people together the way it was meant to or pushing people further apart.

Everybody wants peace.

Everybody wants a better society.

Yet people still fight, k!ll and judge each other over beliefs.

[Hulda Rhema @Emily46645]

The first night after we buried my dad.
Everyone left.

The canopy was gone. The plastic chairs were stacked.
The pot of rice was scraped empty, the speakers were silent.

And the house remembered how to be quiet again. 👇

My mum said “go and sleep.”
I went to his room instead.

His wrapper was still on the bed. Folded.
Like he’d come back and wear it tomorrow.
It still smelled like him. Starched. Him.

I didn’t cry.
I was cried out.
From the hospital. From the service. From the “sorry for your loss” line I’d heard 200 times.

That night there were no tears left.
Just a weight in my chest that had nowhere to go.

I sat on his bed and listened.
No coughing from the parlor.
No radio news at 4pm.
No him shouting “who ate my Agege bread?!”

Grief isn’t the wailing.
Grief is the silence after the noise stops.

I picked up his phone.
1% battery. 37 missed calls.
All from people who didn’t know yet.

I didn’t charge it.
I let it die with him.
Some things aren’t meant to be updated.

Around 2am my phone buzzed.
It was my bank. “Salary alert.”
I laughed. Then I felt guilty for laughing.
Then I realized: the world doesn’t stop. Even when yours does.

He would have said “Collect your money and go and sleep.”

Nobody warns you about the first night after the burial.
Not the funeral. The after.
When the mourning becomes private.
When you realize grief is not an event. It’s an address you just moved into.

If you’re in that house tonight:
You don’t have to be strong. You just have to breathe.

[Hulda Rhema @Emily46645]

@chizyogurt Sure I will baby, thank you.

[Hulda Rhema @Emily46645]

@KINGGGE_ Thank you for sharing this. It’s a beautiful reminder that nothing we go through is wasted even our deepest losses can become someone else’s answered prayer.

[DON G @KINGGGE_]

I volunteer at a community thrift warehouse where thousands of donated items pass through our hands every month. Most of them are just things. Clothes. Furniture. Kitchenware. Forgotten pieces of people's lives. One afternoon, a woman walked in carrying a sealed cardboard box. She held it so tightly against her chest that I assumed there was something fragile inside. When I opened it, I found dozens of baby clothes. Tiny socks. Little dresses. Newborn blankets. Everything was spotless. Almost untouched. I looked up and asked if she was sure she wanted to donate them. For a moment, she couldn't answer. Then she whispered, “My daughter never got to wear them.” The room felt heavy. She explained that she had spent months preparing for her first child.............

[Queeneth @Queeneth01olx]

My landlord raised my rent three times in two years and never once apologized.

The first time, I knocked on his door. Told him I just got the notice. Asked if we could talk. He looked at me like I was wasting his time.

"If you can’t afford it, move out."

The first time..

1/8

[Engr oyibo donatus @DonyiboOyibo]

Today will be a good day it's a beautiful Sunday again up and grateful .

This New week will be fruitful if Algorithm pushes this to you you are already position for enormous blessings.

Wishing you God's protection you shall be successful regardless of how tough it may be .

Just be grateful because a grateful heart will always be blessed.

[NaijaStreet Life @naijastreetlife]

"His mercies are new every morning." 🌅❤️
Every sunrise is proof that God is willing to give us another chance.
Some people woke up with worries.
Some woke up with regrets.
Some woke up with battles nobody else can see.
But the fact that you're here this morning means God isn't finished with your story yet. ✨🙏

[Human Mind 🧠 @IamChinkoB_]

I said I would start waking up early for church… my bed said ‘let us pray about it’ 😭🙏😩

[Hulda Rhema @Emily46645]

@Adaugospotless Sunday blessings to you my love

[Adaugo @Adaugospotless]

As we step out today, may God’s protection go with us. May every journey be safe, every plan be fruitful, and may we return home in peace and joy.

Happy Sunday!

[Esperanza @Jaachi_light]

We were the couple people admired…

...and no one knew we almost couldn’t stand each other.

At home, it was different.

Cold silence.
Sharp words.

Small arguments that grew into long nights.

But outside?

We smiled like a testimony.
We laughed like we were chosen.

People pointed at us and said, “That is a godly marriage.”

We didn’t correct them.
We couldn’t.

Because it was true… and not true at the same time.

Then the invitations started coming.

“Come speak to singles.”
“Come teach young couples.”
“Share your secret.”

Secret?

We barely had peace at home.

One night, after another silent dinner, we both stopped.

No argument.
No pride.
Just exhaustion.

And something broke.

We prayed.
Not loudly.
Not religiously.
Just honestly.

“God, fix what we are pretending is fine.”

The next morning felt different.
Not magical.
Real.

We started listening more.
Talking softer.
Choosing peace on purpose.

Slowly, home became what the outside always thought we were.

Now when we speak at events, we don’t perform.

We remember.
We tell the truth.

Because the miracle didn’t start on a stage.

It started at a dining table where two tired people finally chose healing over pride.

[DON G @KINGGGE_]

I was 27 when I got a call from a number I didn't recognize. The woman on the other end asked if I was David.

I said yes.

There was a long silence before she spoke again. She told me her husband had died three days earlier.
I didn't know what to say because I didn't know her husband. Then she mentioned his name, My stomach dropped