Goodnight, queen of my heart

My mother, “mummy”, that was what I grew up calling you. If only I knew your stay on earth was not going to be too long, I would have strived to do more than I did as a daughter. You were such an epitome of kindness, a lover of God and humanity, you made being […]

My mother, “mummy”, that was what I grew up calling you. If only I knew your stay on earth was not going to be too long, I would have strived to do more than I did as a daughter. You were such an epitome of kindness, a lover of God and humanity, you made being a mother so seamless that your daughters struggled to meet up with your standards.

You were a prayer warrior who was never tired of praying for any pleasant or unpleasant situation you found around you. No wonder, after your glorious exit, we found in your Bible a list of women whom you were praying to be blessed with the fruit of the womb. You served God with the whole of your heart and resources so much so that your children knew any time you said you were broke, you did not need the money for yourself but for the work of God.

My mother, you were such a lover of family that you ensured every one of us kept in touch with each other and at special occasions like birthdays and wedding anniversaries, you would always call us to remind us to call the celebrant. You knitted your children together in love before your departure; you ensured all the grandchildren called each other regularly to chat. You did it with such a sense of urgency that I began to wonder why you were desperately trying to knit the grandchildren together. You must have had a premonition of your glorious exit and you wanted to plant the love strongly before your departure.

You were such a hardworking woman, even when things were so tough for you and our father, you worked tirelessly to support your husband to ensure that we all had quality education.

Nothing was too precious for you to dispose off just to ensure your children had quality education. I remember when we were all in school and school fees was an issue, you sold your car and went on public transport for many years before God blessed us to buy another car for you. You never wanted any one to lack quality education hence until your death you had children of neighbours whom you were assisting to pay their school fees.

You had so many adopted sons and daughters all around because anytime you preached the gospel to anyone and they gave their lives to Christ, you automatically became their mother. You urged us to also see them as our siblings and would remind us at intervals to call them on their birthdays and anniversaries.

You gave tirelessly to widows and orphans and even urged or forced us to do same. When you visited us, you would gather used clothes, some of them still dear to us to give widows and orphans. And when we protested, you would remind us that we had money to buy another so we should give to those who have no means of buying. Such was your magnanimity and selflessness.

Your time, though short to us, but in the eyes of the Lord, was indeed long and fulfilling. I recalled during the austerity period, when debts were all over, just to create an impact and build a fortified generation, you strived so hard, you built a DYNASTY.

I can’t recount the many prized possessions that you gave in exchange for school fees-your gold sets. I recall the JAMB form fees. Your most prized store at the then Central Market Kaduna had to go to settle recurring debts because Dad could not do it alone. Even those clothes at some point your boxes were empty, you recycled your head ties as blouses. I recount the way you gave your last possession-the sewing machine-to your son as support for his final year thesis. The value of that sewing machine metamorphosed into one of the best Geologists in the nation, supporting our nation’s oil and gas sector today. Your impacts are still felt all over the world, from the green fields in Glasgow to the ranches in Texas and all around the great Jos hills and the Zuma hills in Abuja.

I recall your religious monthly Bible verses. They were always the first to wake me up every first day of the month, until the 1st November this year, when certainly reality dawned on me that you are indeed GONE TO CANAAN.

In my ears I still recall your usual prayers Òò ri àànu gbà, òò bá àànu pàde and certainly it keeps ringing in my heart until that day when we shall meet again. But what gives me joy is that you took the last baptismal on earth at the foremost RIVER JORDAN, we never knew the days were nigh. Mummy, you loved singing and dancing and those who saw you on your last Sunday on earth said you danced so much in church that you were sweating profusely. Unknown to them, you were practicing your dance with the angels.

Your love for your profession turned into a calling so much so that you always used the medication in your medicine shop to treat people who did not have money to pay. And when we questioned you concerning it, you would smile and say that was what God called you to do. You never hesitated to go with medication on evangelism in order to treat the sick that had no money.

Anytime you travelled out of the country, you would worry tirelessly on what to buy for people so much that you would end up not buying anything for yourself. This played out when you travelled on pilgrimage to Jerusalem this year-which was your sincere wish and it came to pass- you bought things for even the grandchildren and never thought of anything for yourself except “anointing oil.” You were so selfless in giving so much so that we thought you did it to a fault, but now, we understand better.

Mummy, even in death, you remain our hero, your shoes are too big for anyone to fill. Iya Bosede, Iya Christy, Iya Mowumi, Iya Tobi, Iya Femi, grandma awon boys and girls, you will be sorely missed. You however lived a fulfilled life. You visited all the countries you desired to visit: US, UK, France and Israel. Your utmost desire was to see the tomb of Jesus Christ before departing this world and that was made possible as a gift from your children during your 70th birthday in April 2018.

I had a dream about you. In that dream you told us not to grief, that you are fine where you are. This is our consolation. So we are not grieving, we are only celebrating a life well lived, well spent in services to God and humanity.

Adieu Mummy mi atata, Deaconess Esther Omodele Oke (JP). It is only goodnight but not goodbye, sweet is the memories of the righteous.