Been moping at my notepad and my thoughts are not coming together. Do I blame them? They are flung far, scattered, apart to the many memories that you graced with your selfless self. I want to cry more, but I can’t. Even if I had more tears, I wouldn’t. Let me not be selfish again. This should be about you.
You see, you were there for everyone, and I mean every single person that mattered to you. Even when it was reasonable not to, you still availed yourself. It was your person, to lose yourself in others completely, making things that were about them yours. Very few times was it about you; it was always about us, how we felt, how we fared. And even in those very little times you made your own, it was still because you cared about a person.
The thing about memories is that even though they are figments from the past, they can exist in the present. So yes, you are gone.
But you are here – in every memory that we relive of you. The joys we shared, the pains we felt, the quarrels and fights, the struggles and challenges, the hopes and the future we longed for, the tomorrow we awaited, the tears we shed in the rain, the pictures we took at awkward angles, the books we read, the shows we watched, the meals we prepared, the fears we struggled with, the secrets we buried.
Sigh! No! You are not gone. You are here. Memories never die.
I said to Davis, “Now he can rest.” He replied in the negative, that “he never wanted to rest. He was a fighter.” And that is so true. Even when there was no way, you still wouldn’t give up. You always found a way. Like, every single time. Davis was right. You were a fighter. Why didn’t I realise that? You just fought in a way that made it seem like you were having so much fun. And that’s the point I’m trying to make: You gave the best of yourself to everyone. You never held back, even from those who didn’t deserve you, me inclusive. You were open and full of life in a way that made everyone think they knew you best. You were a fucking gift to us all.
When it comes to sacrifices, no one knows the meaning of the word more than you do. Even when it was going to be detrimental to you, you’d still do it and face the consequences. That was who you were – always there for everyone. Even when you couldn’t help directly, you always went extra miles to get the solution.
Lagos trips were never complete without a new collection of books. Who was your friend that loved reading and didn’t borrow a book from you? Let me see the person. You introduced me to the best series I’ve ever read; hello, Sophie Kinsella. I still remember it like it was yesterday, the day you gave me the first Shopaholic book at Cele bus stop. We were coming from Deola’s house. Shit! Are you really dead? Who’s going to give me new episodes of RuPaul’s Drag Race? Now, I’m never going to watch Golden Girls again. It just wouldn’t be the same.
Let me stop here. The hurt is real. If as your friend, I feel this way, how much more your family. How you loved them so. Poor Ezenwa, how you always wanted to protect him. Well, now you can be his guardian angel.
I’ll forever cherish your memories.
Rest on, Ohax!
Written by Elvis