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I don’t know how to write this and I don’t know where to
start and even though I’m hardly ever one to share, I just know I had to share
this…for you.
I remember when my mom said to us ‘we’re going to auntie Uche’s house’. I can recall that we always had
mixed feelings, the first was that of excitement that we were leaving the house
for a while and the second was that of fear, ‘oh, that auntie with the deep voice who speaks like a man…hahaha’ yes
 you were sweet but the deep timbre of
your voice made us startle. But we
went anyway because like the life of any young child in the city, we spent most
of our time indoors- it was always from school to home and then, the next day,
off to school again.
I remember when my mom dropped us off at your place on
Saturdays when she had to go to the market and one time your little niece came
to spend the holiday with you and showed us that she could mix chalk with garri- we
didn’t drink it though but I imagined the taste, I knew it must taste awful.
Your mai-guard at the gate with his small kiosk never ran
out of ‘Oyakaka and Okin biscuits’ and you made sure to buy some for us when we
paid you a visit. We always asked mommy, ‘why
doesn’t auntie Uche have little kids of her own like hers for us to play with’

 and my mom would tell us ‘that’s because she’s still waiting on God.’

Every time we fell on our knees to pray, we always asked God
to give you children of your own because we wanted to play with them before we
were all grown up. Yes, you fell pregnant once but you had an ectopic pregnancy
with twins and you lost the children and whenever you spoke of the little
fetuses you lost, we saw tears in your eyes.
You spoke of your husband’s infidelity with so much pain;
how he kept another woman outside your home and she had kids for him. I
remember you telling my mother with tears in your eyes that you knew the woman
and that you’ve see her from time to time praying at the church and you
wondered what she could be praying about as she was slowly ruining your home.
Months flew past and so did years and even though you moved
far away with your family, you still kept in touch. You hadn’t gotten your big
miracle of having children but you always asked of our welfare.
I think of you with so much memories auntie, you were such a huge part
of my childhood and even now I can see myself skipping the short distance to your
house holding my mother’s hand. I am sorry that I couldn’t make it to your
daughter’s birthday, a little girl you adopted so many years later and with whom you felt so happy and complete to have her by your side. I heard the party was
grand and that you both looked beautiful. I knew that even though your marriage
was in shambles, you stayed for so long because you felt that love would
He was your first love and to you, your only love, despite it all.
I heard of your untimely death today; colon cancer, they
said. I heard that your husband didn’t pay a dime for your hospital bills- a
man who’s so wealthy and whose properties grace these lands and beyond. I heard
that your little kids; a girl and a boy, kept crying to his hardened ears ‘Daddy,
mommy is ill’
, when you fell ill in March 2016. I heard that he totally
abandoned you till your siblings came in to take you away from his home and
care for you.
I know that life might have seemed so unfair to you but that
you’re resting in God’s bosom. Oh! My heart is so heavy as I type this and I
can’t imagine how devastated your beautiful kids feel over the death of
their mother who showered them with so much love. I wish life could have been a
little more fair to you, I wish that maybe you would have left your husband at
the beginning when you realised that the man you married didn’t care. I
wish…so many things but if wishes could bring you back, I’ll wish some more. 
May your beautiful soul find eternal rest. You are greatly missed and will always be remembered.
Till we
reach a distant shore,
May you
find peace of mind,
May He
give you grace to endure…
Till we
meet again….
Rest in
Peace dearest auntie Uche.

We love
you but God loves you most.


  1. Accept my condolences, Adaeze.
    Occurrences like this makes one sad. Losing a loved one when they are only just entering the peak of life.

    I pray your family and hers find comfort in Christ. Take heart.


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