Dear Ifeanyi,
Happy 27th birthday Ify. Though you are no longer with us, this day will always remain special as the day you came into our lives and filled it with joy and laughter. I remembered taking your mom to the hospital in Ikorodu, Lagos, very early that morning as we saw signs of labour. Out of ignorance, I left her in the hospital for my office then at GRA Ikeja. I only knew of your birth when I came back in the evening. This was pre-GSM era when telephone was a luxury.
Today, you are celebrating and dancing with the Angels as you did with your mom on the joint celebration of your 25th birthday with her as she clocked 50 in May 2022. Watching that dance – the pride of a husband and father welling up in me – I also thought the steps were a form of rehearsal for your wedding day whenever you were ready to take a wife. Little did I know it was your last ceremonial family dance on earth..
It’s hard to believe but it is almost a year since that Black Monday, 10 July 2023, when we received that call from your colleague in the office in Victoria Island. They told us you had collapsed in the canteen and was rushed to the hospital. I did not read much meaning to it and was preparing to hit the road to Victoria Island when another cold, uncaring, un-empathetic call came from a doctor to say “we tried to revive him but we lost him”. That day changed our lives. Forever.
Maybe with the power of your celestial being, can you go back to that incident and give me a clearer picture of what happened? Let me ask: what really happened? Because nobody in your office has been able to give us a real account of what happened. They only told us it was a cleaner in the canteen that alerted them of your condition as people don’t usually go there to eat until afternoon. But you went early to eat because you were hungry.
Did you collapse as you entered the canteen clutching your food flask or you choked while eating? Some of your colleagues who saw you that morning on your way to the canteen told us you were in high spirits listening to music from your phone with the ear device. Little did they know that death was lurking in the canteen.
It is a paradox that the job you loved so much lost you; you didn’t lose the job as you were won’t to ask your mom: “Do you want me to lose my job”? That the incident that led to your untimely death happened in the office showed that you were not only physically but also spiritually intertwined with your job. You loved brand management and you always introduced yourself as a brand strategist. You gave it your all like you did in the previous employments.
Since you left us, the chemistry of the house has not been the same. Your mother, your younger siblings, and I miss you terribly. The pain we feel is overwhelming. The void you left is unfillable. We think of you every day, wishing you could knock on the kitchen door and walk in like you do when coming back from the office.
Your passing caused an unprecedented wave of mourning, not just within our family, but globally. It was a pleasant surprise to see such an outpouring of love and respect for someone so young, especially considering we are just ordinary people. You were loved by so many, and it was obvious that your life had touched countless hearts. Your friends miss your ‘how far now’ greetings on the phone followed by a brief laughter. Some said you spoke to them that Monday morning. Your friend, Daphne said you called her but she was in a High Court in Ikeja and sent you a message that she would return the call later. She did at about 1 pm unknown to her that you had passed on two hours earlier. Shocking. Albert and David, two of your closest friends, came from the United Kingdom to pay us condolence visit. Numerous others and your former colleagues at Fidelity Pension Managers were all united in grief.
I often look back to the wonderful memories we shared, like your holiday in Atlanta with your mom and younger sister shortly after your graduation. You were so excited being your first trip outside Nigeria. You had wanted to stay behind, but I insisted you come back to complete your National Youth Service Corps programme before heading back for your Master’s degree. Those were happy times, full of promise and hope for the future.
I also recall with great nostalgia our trips to Babcock University during your undergraduate days when we all sit in the car to eat the jollof or fried rice (these were your favourites) brought to you by your mom to complement the ‘meatless’ food served at Babcock canteens. The fried chicken bowls were special treats as you had enough to share with your roommates. I remembered the great reception we organised in our home as friends and neighbours joined us to celebrate your graduation in 2018. Not even the heavy downpour that Sunday afternoon could dampen the joy that we all felt as a family.
Did you by chance watch the English Premier League there? If not let me fill you in. In the just concluded season there was an epic match between Chelsea (my club) and Manchester United (your club). Chelsea beat Man U 4-3. I would have taunted you with the hail of ‘Up Man U’ to which you will smile and go ahead to analyse why Man U lost the match they were leading just five minutes to the end. And just on Saturday, against all odds, Man U beat Man City at Wembley to clinch the 2024 English FA Cup and book a spot in the UEFA Europa League even though you people finished eighth on the table. Chelsea will play at UEFA Conference League haven finished sixth. Imagine! Book makers and, indeed football fans, never gave Man U a chance considering the gulf in class between the two Manchester teams in recent years. Up Man U!
I miss our professional discussions on brand management, consumer behaviour, digital marketing among others. And even our disagreements, like the ones over your long beard, which you insisted on keeping despite my protestations. The reality of your absence is something we face every day. I miss your interventions in my laptop glitches at night when I am stuck not knowing what else to press. We miss your calm presence. Your 25th birthday, celebrated alongside your mom’s 50th, now feels like a farewell dance. You were so full of life, as if you knew your time was short.
We find solace in the belief that you are comfortably ensconced at the bosom of the Lord away from hassles and wahala of Lagos, especially the daily traffic of commuting to work and back. Some of your friends have told us that you appeared to them in their dreams reassuring us that you are in a better place. Just last week, your mom said you appeared to her, telling her not to be depressed because it was God’s will. But why? Didn’t the Bible say that God will satisfy us with long life and show us his salvation? Or that the blessing of the Lord makes rich and add no sorrow? Your mom has managed to stay calm through the help of the Holy Spirit but this past week has been very challenging for her and indeed all of us as your birthday drew close.
You were a quiet and gentle soul, almost taciturn, bearing your challenges with religious equanimity. I never expected your journey to end so soon. We had so much plans together, especially on your career trajectory. Recall I was always nudging you to get your own apartment so you can start life as a man. But you have ended your journey. So abruptly. Such is life. We cannot query God.
We are establishing the Ifeanyi Michael Foundation for youth empowerment and career counselling to keep your memory alive and impact humanity.
Happy 27th birthday once more, Ify. Until we meet on the resurrection morning, you will always live in our hearts.
With all my love.
Your dad,
Mike.
Nzeagwu, PR consultant, wrote in memory of his son, who died last year, aged 26
