can buy.
Baba 70 as we fondly called him, was a kind man, who loved his family and did anything for them. Baba, continue to rest in peace. Lots of love!
favour. Go visit, or pick up the phone, call your old man (not text). Tell him how much you love him, and how much you appreciate him. Tell him you see the sacrifices he makes. You don’t take it for granted, and you won’t let him down. This will be more valuable than any gift you
me. I wish I could pay him back for everything he ever did. Every single thing. And especially, I wish he was still alive today, so I could tell him again how much I love him. If you are reading this and your father is still very much alive, mehn, are you lucky! Do yourself a
There are some key events that take place in your life that’s forever ingrained in your brain…something called an impact/life event. For me, it was when my dad passed. I lost my dad in July 2020, a few months before my wedding. I remember it like yesterday. A thread.
I wish we had more time to talk about life, women, love and relationships. I wish I had taken the time to dig much deeper into his life. I wish he wasn’t sick by the time I became stable financially, and could afford to buy him nice things. I wish I didn’t run away when he needed
probably just wanted to spend time with me and connect. This is over 20 years later, and I still remember this incident with deep regret. It will be 4 years since his passing in July, and I wish I had done some things differently. I wish I had spent more quality time with him.
But, it’s a hard and thankless job. I remember an incident when I was 14, or 15, my dad walked into my room with one of my sketches (I used to draw at the time). And he had drawn on top of it, and I remember being angry about him ‘ruining’ my G.I Joe sketch. In hindsight, he
something we don’t do enough of as a culture. Father’s don’t get told how well they are doing often enough. Plus, we are usually not aware of the things they had to sacrifice to make so their kids are catered for. It’s easier to assume it’s father’s job to protect and provide.
with money and still is a large influence on the man I turned out to be. I do have some regrets. I don’t think I told him I loved him very often, or that I appreciated what he did. Sure, I was thankful, and assumed he knew, but it’s a different thing to say it out loud. And it’s
from Lagos to Odolewu in Ijebu-Ode to see us on visiting days. He sold his car at the time, and had to take public transport; and then walk like a kilometre from the bus stop to the school gate. This man was over 60 by this time. He is technically the reason I’m extremely prudent
if he had to borrow money to pay the fees. I remember he had an agreement with the principal of my secondary school then, to pay myself and my brother’s school fees installmentally. He was a retiree at the time. But, the school knew he was a man of his word. He’d come all the way
wipe the tears temporarily to get an ambulance to take him to the mortuary. I loved my dad. He worked his ass off. Made sure we were well taken care of, and that my siblings and I didn’t lack anything. He did everything within his power to make sure we went to good schools, even
I walked into the living room, and saw my father, (who I talked to hours before) lying lifeless on the couch. Didn’t even know when I burst into tears and started weeping. A couple of people kept saying, ‘don’t cry, you are a man”. In my mind I was like, ‘Are you mad?”. Had to
heart started pounding, and till today, I have no idea how I drove all the way back to Ajah. My wife and I got back around 11pm. Immediately we drove into the compound, we saw a couple of cars already parked. A part of me knew what had happened, but I didn’t want to believe it.
have a ramp for wheelchairs). I drove him and my mum home, talked some more and left for the mainland. I was about to turn into 7up/motorways when my mum called. “Biyi, pada wa sile - ma bo” (Biyi, come back home). I asked her what was wrong, she just repeated the same thing. My
I took a day off from work to go see him at the hospital with my fiancée (now wife), somewhere in Ajah. I sat by his bedside, talked to him and my mum for a while. He was discharged later in the evening. I remember having to carry him down a flight of stairs (the hospital didn’t