The day I left for my PhD, you held my hand tightly, hugged me so closely in a warm embrace, and prayed over me. You handed me a handwritten note that became my guide. Saying goodbye was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I never wanted to leave, but I had to Mama, was that note your final goodbye? The plan was to earn this degree and return to share the joy with you. You were always ahead of time, seeing what we couldn’t and knowing what we didn’t imagine as your children. You walked in blessed hope amid challenges and trials. Not a day goes by without tears, knowing that the love we shared now lives only in my heart.
Am I afraid of death? NO! Death is inevitable. The truth, Mom is, that what scares me the most Is not being able to say all the things I want to say to you, facing the reality that I would never talk to you or come back to your warm welcome. That you can not share your insight into life with me anymore. And you cannot advise or pray for me physically. That this peculiar love is only but a memory. Just know we will look after each other, Chinedu, Kelechi, Ugochkwu, Jideofor, Chidimma, and I. And, mom, we miss you, you know you are our rock. We will also take care of everything you said we should, we will make you proud.
Our hearts are broken, but it ain’t broken forever. The pieces will grow back together. And in time, we’ll be fine. The tears are temporary. There are going to be rainy days. Also, we can see that your grandkids are showing manifestations of your great personality, Mom, you are not lost forever. You live among us.
For the days I lock myself in my room and cry. Know that I think about how when I was little, you and I back and forth to Central School Okpuje, especially that day you drove the blue machine from Mama Amafor, you strapped me to the backseat. Our breaks failed and you were surprised I wasn’t scared about the accident. Mum, I was never scared with you. Because there was no better place to be than your side, I know this death hurts you as well Dee Mama, but I’m wishing your pains and my pains away. We got this, we’ve never disappointed you, and we will never.
You nurtured me from childhood, believing in me when no one else did. You sacrificed everything for me. Even as an adult, you entrusted me with your paycheck, asking how much I needed and telling me to take whatever I needed. When you got your first car, you barely used it—telling me to take it instead. Morning, day, and night, you prayed for me. There was nothing you wouldn’t give. You made it seem like we came from wealth, but it was just you, Mama. Your love and sacrifice made it all possible. You spent your last dime to ensure I had the best Christmas clothes and shoes. No matter the turbulence of life, I could always depend on you. All my childhood and adult memories are filled with your love. I strive daily to make you proud, and I know you are, Mama.
You never hesitated to correct me, and you never spared harsh words to keep me in check. It felt like you were always a step ahead, knowing every wrong move I made or was about to make, and you were quick to correct me. You taught me the meaning of sacrifice, instilling in us the importance of caring for others. Like Abraham, who welcomed strangers, you did the same. You always saved the best portion for whoever might visit, showing your love for people. You always reminded me of all who were dear to you in good and bad times and asked that I always remember them, ah mama!, Aguru Uche Onu Nwanyi! We’ll take care of everything.
Mama, you were so intelligent—no detail ever escaped you. Once you heard something, you could recall it in detail, even decades later. You taught for 30 years, and I was always amazed at your attention to detail in your notes and your ability to remember the names of your students.
You were a leader, always at the forefront, never compromising your values. The only issue people had with you was your honesty—you spoke the truth boldly and never stood for mediocrity. You treated everyone equally, whether rich or poor and never tolerated indiscipline, regardless of whoever it was. You were fearless.
I thank God for making you our mother. No love could have been greater. Grandma, your beloved mother Obochi Omada, shared the same love for us. She could never hear of us being sick without showing up unannounced, her face etched with concern, wishing she could take our pain. She was calm, a woman of few words, yet her love was profound. I remember running to her house during school breaks, knowing she’d have rice with jam waiting for me. You came from a lineage of love.
It pains me that these memories are all that remain and that my children may never know you as I did. I hope that they find this tribute and learn about the incredible person you were. I’m grateful for the 20 grandchildren God blessed you with, and that you saw them all. Mine would have just been the icing on the cake. I trust that our paths will cross again. While we may not have repaid all our debts, Mama, you paid yours in full. My beautiful queen, the memory that stays with me is your smiling face and favorite songs like “AHURUM ONYE IJE.”
You’re deeply appreciated. You embodied compassion and grace. You were a symbol of selfless humanity. We love you. My grandfather, Chief Osuji Okeja Agbogho, would be so proud of you. You raised soldiers of Christ. Your father, Nwa-Igboduma James Obochi, would be pleased with you, and your beloved mother, Omadaidu, would be satisfied with how you cared for us. We, your children and your beloved husband, are in awe and love of you, and the whole community misses you. The Church of God honors your memory. We’ll keep watch at the Lord’s Mansion, knowing the Angels rest.
Therefore, as it pleases our Lord, I make this prayer as Solomon did when he stood before the altar of the Lord in front of the whole assembly of Israel, spreading out his hands toward heaven: “Lord, the God of Israel, there is no God like You in heaven above or on earth below—You who keep Your covenant of love with Your servants who continue wholeheartedly in Your way. You have kept Your promise to Your servant, Lady Victoria Ogechukwu Ayogu, my mother; with Your mouth, You have promised, and with Your hand, You have fulfilled it—as it is today. Now, Lord, the God of Israel, keep for Your servant Victoria, my mother, the promises You made to her. And may the Lord grant that she will find mercy on that day!”
Amen.
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