By Boma O Nwuke PhD
There is a time to be born and a time to die, as the Holy Scriptures remind us in Ecclesiastes 3:2. These are two inevitable realities of human existence over which no mortal has control. While birth ushers us into the world, death eventually brings our earthly journey to an end. Yet, when death comes calling, particularly when it takes away someone whose life has touched ours in remarkable ways, the pain of separation can be overwhelming. Such was my experience when my nephew called to break the news of the passing of Mummy, Mrs Oribi Eugene Wakama.
I received the news with profound shock and disbelief. Perhaps what made it particularly painful was the fact that I had looked forward to seeing her again, not knowing that the opportunity I had hoped for would never come. I had planned to visit her, share the story of my career and educational exploits, and enjoy those familiar conversations that always left me feeling encouraged and appreciated. Unfortunately, death had its own plans, and the visit I had anticipated became one of those unfinished chapters that life sometimes leaves behind.
Mummy was not just another elderly woman in the family. She was a beautiful woman, not only in physical appearance but, more importantly, in character, disposition and the generosity of her heart. She possessed a rare combination of affection, warmth, discipline and genuine concern for the people around her. She was someone who lovingly interrogated you about your progress, wholeheartedly appreciated your achievements and was never afraid to scold you when she considered it necessary. Her corrections were never intended to diminish anyone but to guide, encourage and set one on the right path. That was Mummy: loving, observant, interested and deeply invested in the welfare of others.
It was always a delight visiting her. Our conversations were never hurried or superficial. She listened with interest, asked questions, offered advice and, at the end of our interaction, would always pronounce her blessings before saying goodbye. Those prayers and words of encouragement were part of the experience I looked forward to whenever I visited. They were expressions of a mother’s affection, a grandmother’s concern and the spiritual disposition of a woman who understood the importance of committing the lives of her loved ones into God’s hands. Looking back, I realise that what appeared to be ordinary family visits were actually priceless moments that I will continue to cherish.
Mummy was an educationist and a teacher extraordinaire. Her profession was not merely a means of livelihood; it was a calling through which she contributed to the development of individuals and society. As a teacher, she understood that education went beyond the transmission of knowledge in the classroom. It involved character formation, discipline, mentorship and preparing people to become responsible members of society. Her life reflected these values. She was compassionate, empathetic and committed to the wellbeing of others. She was a pillar of the home, a woman whose presence brought warmth and whose counsel was valuable to those fortunate enough to benefit from it. Above all, she was a God-fearing woman whose faith found expression in her disposition towards people.
My realisation that Mummy was truly gone came in stages. The first was when I visited the house and saw the empty chair where she usually sat. That chair, which had once been associated with her familiar presence, conversations and warmth, suddenly became a painful reminder of her absence. It was difficult to reconcile the sight of that empty space with the reality that the woman who had occupied it would no longer be there to welcome visitors.
The second was during the Service of Songs at Christ Church on Tuesday, October 27. The gathering of family members, friends and well-wishers was a solemn reminder of the finality of death. But it was when I saw the hearse and the casket that the reality became even more profound. The woman whose voice I had hoped to hear again, whose advice I had looked forward to receiving and whose blessings I had always cherished was now being prepared for her final earthly journey.
The funeral service and subsequent final rites at Wakama Community brought together a large gathering of relations, friends and well-wishers. Listening to the eulogy and the sermon on the ‘cloud of witnesses’ provided another opportunity for reflection. As the testimonies of her life and contributions were recounted, I was reminded that the true measure of a person’s life is not necessarily the material possessions accumulated, the positions occupied or the recognition received, but the positive difference made in the lives of others. Indeed, all is vanity, as the Scriptures declare. What ultimately remains is the legacy of love, kindness, service, faith and the memories we leave in the hearts of those whose paths crossed ours.
In many respects, Mummy’s funeral was more than a ceremony of farewell. It was a reunion. Family members who had perhaps not seen one another for some time gathered to honour a woman whose life connected generations. Her friends came together, and those who had shared different seasons of her life found themselves reunited in remembrance. It was a celebration of relationships, family bonds and the enduring influence of a woman who had given so much of herself to others.
My visit to Wakama was also particularly significant. Beyond the funeral rites, it offered an opportunity to reconnect with the land of my forebears, a place that holds memories, history and a sense of belonging. Standing there, surrounded by relations and people connected by ancestry, I was reminded that we are all part of a continuing story. Those who came before us laid foundations upon which succeeding generations build, and it is our responsibility to preserve the values and virtues that give meaning to those foundations.
Mummy’s departure is undoubtedly a painful loss, but her life offers lessons that should not be lost in grief. She demonstrated that one does not need to occupy an exalted position to make a lasting impact. Sometimes, the greatest influence comes from the home, through the quiet sacrifices of motherhood, the discipline of a teacher, the generosity of a friend and the prayers of a woman who genuinely cares. Her legacy is written in the lives she nurtured, the people she encouraged, the lessons she imparted and the affection she gave so freely.
As I bid you farewell, Mummy, I am comforted by the knowledge that you lived a life that mattered. You gave love, shared wisdom, corrected with affection and blessed those who came your way. Though I will no longer have the opportunity to sit with you, share my achievements or receive those familiar words of blessing, the memories of our encounters will remain with me.
Rest eternally in the bosom of the Lord, Mummy. Your chair may be empty, your voice may be silent and your earthly journey may have ended, but the beautiful memories of your life and the legacy you have left behind will continue to speak across generations.
Goodnight, Ma. You will be sorely missed.
