Farewell to a dear sister
By Eddy Asika
MY dear Okpuzo: By this letter, I mean to say for myself and on behalf of all of us, your brothers and sisters and our several families, that farewell which we did not have a chance to say to you, our beloved sister, while you were yet in the flesh, before your untimely transition to the great beyond.
I do not know whether the authorities on the other side, which is now your side of the Veil, do suffer you happy souls to be bothered with communications from this sinful side. Perhaps not, ordinarily, but again perhaps, they do afford that privilege to very recent arrivals such as your good self under special dispensation. Should the latter prove to be the case, I implore you to apply for the necessary dispensation because it is very important to us that you should know that we are saddened by your sudden departure, that we all bid you farewell and pray for God's mercy on your precious soul.
It was around 9.20 o'clock in the morning of that fateful Thursday, June 10, 2004. I was alone in my bedroom when the telephone rang. It was Chidi, calling from UNTH. Two days earlier on Tuesday, my bosom friend Nnabuenyi Osemeka and his wife had kindly accompanied me on a visit to you in your sick bed. The condition in which we found you then was worrisome, but not really alarming. That night, I received a call from our niece, Ngozi, who explained the condition to me from the medical viewpoint. Unable to raise Chidi's number early in the morning of the Wednesday, I sent him a short message in text. His reply was prompt and quite upbeat. That same Wednesday night, I enquired once again, and Chidi's reply was that there had been no untoward change or development in your condition in the course of that day.
It was, therefore, in hopeful anticipation of cheery tidings of further improvement in your condition that I eagerly answered Chidi's call on Thursday morning. But alas! After a few indistinctly transmitted remarks no doubt intended to prepare my mind for the bombshell, he finally dropped it. "...but we lost her." I thought I heard him say in an admirably steady voice. "Yes, we lost Okpuzo. She passed on about an hour ago", he spelt out. Needless to say, I was instantly shattered. My voice and tone must have so betrayed my deep shock and uncharacteristic loss of self-control that poor Chidi, in apparent alarm, rebuked me, his uncle, exclaiming "Nnabuenyi! Nnabuenyi Nnabuenyi! Pull yourself together. It is your duty to be strong for us at a time like this. If you buckle, what do you expect of us"
"Of course", I muttered lamely, and quickly dropped the phone to save us both from further anguish. Then I really broke down and wept my soul out in a way I had never done before. Not long afterwards, Chidi again called to advise me that he and Ada, with the able assistance of Ngozi, were arranging to move your body to Onitsha for preservation and storage. It is best left to imagination how the dreadful news must have impacted on members of the clan outside Onitsha and Enugu, many of who did not even know you had been sick at all to say nothing of seriously. No thanks to the fact that you became aware of the gravity of your condition until it was too late.
Having said that, however, I am sure you will be happy to learn that all your children have exhibited incredible courage and strength in the face of their irreparable bereavement. You died virtually in the hands of Chidi and Ada. Yet they mustered the composure it took to sort out the necessary hospital documentation, hire an ambulance and convey your body to Onitsha within few hours of that traumatising event. Impressed Now this: Loretta was away from her regular station on a brief working tour of Washington DC and could not be reached on her mobile phone which she had apparently switched off. It took little Nnenna to fly to Washington and break the news to big sister! I am exceedingly proud of my nephews and nieces.
Three weeks on, and I still delude myself that it could all be but a bad dread, and that presently I would wake up from sleep and gladly curse my naughty imagination. No doubt, however, I shall soon finally come to terms with the stark reality of the situation when most of Onitsha, Yenagoa, Ojoto, Owerri and other Nigerians from far and near join us in paying you our last, sad offices of respect and affection, from 23rd through 28th of July..
My beloved sister, rest assured that you have not died in vain, for the lessons to be derived from your glorious life and peaceful transition will forever be for us, a source of just pride and inspiration, and a veritable beacon of light and hope. The shining example of constant, selfless and unstinted love which you have afforded us individually and collectively will forever keep alive in us, an acute consciousness in all our dealings with one another, that we are descended from the same stock, partakers of the same nature and sharers in the same hope and destiny. It will inspire us to be more strongly cemented in the bonds of unison and kinship and direct us, during whatever is left of the short space allotted to us on this terrestrial pilgrimage, to strive selflessly, as you have done, to relieve the wants, supply the necessities and promote the welfare and happiness of our fellow creatures.
Since that June 10, when the sun set for you, when in the esoteric language of author of the Book of Ecclessiastes "the silver cord was loosed, the golden bowl was broken, the pitcher was broken at the fountain and the wheel broken at the cistern", I have, with immense pride and gratification, received a steady stream of verbal encomiums and tributes on your behalf from caller after caller, acknowledging how you touched their lives in a positive way, and proclaiming their conviction that verily, your "spirit has returned unto God who gave it", to again quote the author. The palatial mansion you were building for yourself in GRA, Onitsha, work on the finishing touches of which had been stalled for a considerable length of time, it was your wish to personally supervise those finishing touches, and stamp them with your personal cachet, delicate taste and exquisite class. You were well on the way to achieving this particular mission when sickness and finally death itself intervened.
Now, answer me, what are children for if not to continue the good works of their parents No. I see no cause for regrets. Quite on the contrary, I know that you died counting your countless blessings: good children, the wherewithal to have given them the best nurture and academic education which money can procure, grandchildren, a reputable family background, a veritably fulfilled life, a fund of goodwill etc.
You were a rare gem, richly endowed with personal charm, class, style, elegance, poise, intellect, vivacity, an enterprising sprit and a prodigious capacity for hard work. Incidentally, not many people will now remember that it was you who, as a young woman, in the corporate guise of SEAMS (Nig.) Limited, executed the high-profile building contract for the College of Education, Eha Amufu, among others. Or that you once operated a flourishing printing press. You have fought the good fight, run a champion's life race.
Enjoy your well-deserved rest, dearest sister. Enyi, Okpuzo Enw'ilo, Nwezebuona,Nne Mmanwu, Ebusieje bunwa Ebuieje, Nne Loretta, Nne Chidi, Nne Ada, Nne Anene, Nne Nnenna, Ezi Nwanne, Nwanne Ajie Ukadiugwu, Ezenwanyi, Ogalanye Ngada. Rest in perfect peace till we meet again to part no more.
Asika lives in Onitsha, Anambra State
