Farewell, again, sweet baby brother

You have spent 20 years in this world, and while the first half of your life has been carefree, the latter half was very difficult and painful since you were diagnosed with type1 diabetes. At a very early age, Abbas, you lived your life in and out of hospitals. You have had to forego your […]

You have spent 20 years in this world, and while the first half of your life has been carefree, the latter half was very difficult and painful since you were diagnosed with type1 diabetes. At a very early age, Abbas, you lived your life in and out of hospitals. You have had to forego your favourite foods and drinks. And you, who feared injections more than anything, found yourself dependent on two shots of insulin every day before meals.

Dear little brother, I can say with all sincerity that you were the most dependable person I have ever known, and most of us took that for granted. You were also the most focused person I knew, as I remember while in primary school you used to do your homework in the car before even reaching home. That was just the sort of person you were, making hay while the sun shines, not leaving for tomorrow what can be done today. In retrospect, it was as if you knew you had little time left.

You were my baby brother, but in most things in life, I looked up to you because I knew you always had my best interest in mind at all times. Whenever you came home for holidays I can expect that you have gotten a collection of the kinds of things I would love. Like music, books and so on. That even made me become kind of lazy in that department and waited impatiently for when you would come home and say ‘Ummi, I’ve gotten something you might like.’ And you were always right on the money!

Abbas taught me everything I know about computers, phones and technology in general. I remember the day I wanted to send an email for the first time and I asked our other brother Nur how to do it and he was trying to explain to me over the phone. But I wasn’t getting it until he contacted you because he knows you had the most patience in dealing with me and therefore the right person to teach me. He was right, as in less than a minute, you were able to put me through.

One of the things I am most grateful for is that you have always taken your faith very seriously and I can at least be glad that you departed this life before the world had a chance to corrupt you. You were a devoted Muslim who never played with or delayed his prayers. I remember the one thing you hated the most was the devil so much so that at a very early age when you were told that if you didn’t pray at the start of a meal the devil will join you for the meal, you started praying before each bite because you didn’t want to take any chance as far as Shaytan is concerned. And that has been the way you lived your life, avoiding all things bad to avoid the influence of the devil.

Whenever I think of you, it is always in one of two compartments, Abba. Before the diabetes when you were a cranky little fellow who loved to stay in his comfort zone that is the immediate family, who loved cartoons, was wary of strangers and who used to be the butt of all our jokes because you were so easy to tease. Then there’s Abba after the diabetes, a totally different fellow, who seemed to have grown up overnight, becoming a mature ‘people-person’ who was fazed by nothing. And we did try to tease you, as usual, but you would just smile. That sweet innocent smile with which I picture you with every time I close my eyes and remember you.

You still loved your computer and your comics. You were a geek, really, but you accepted your fate with a maturity that is commendable. You became so serene and accommodating, even though it could not have been easy for you to always be conscious of your diet and every few months spend weeks in the hospital in pain. During those times I used to think that the worst feeling in life was watching helplessly as a loved one suffers but now I realise that this pain cannot be compared with losing a loved one.

Diabetes took control of every aspect of your life and put great restrictions on you but you did not allow it to fully take over and you didn’t succumb to self-pity. Studying to be an architect is difficult even for the healthiest of people, how much worse it must have been for you as you were sick all the time, sometimes not even aware of yourself or your surroundings for days or even weeks. But you hardly ever complained. In fact, most people relied on you on campus to solve all their computer problems! The truth is that you were a an extremely talented, easy-going and promising young man and I can say that you made an impact on so many lives in the little time you spent on earth.

Your departure has left a big void in our lives and the only thing left between us now is our constant prayers for you – and fond memories. Abbas, you were always the best of brothers, I love you so much and miss you much more than I ever thought possible. Rest is peace, my sweet baby brother. Inna Lillahi wa inna ilaihi raji’un.

Bukar wrote in from Abuja