It’s hard to process. I have mixed feelings; it feels unreal; this is the first time death is hitting so close, and I can’t feel my feet anymore. My teeth are aching, and my heart is racing. I don’t know how to express myself, but I am sure I feel like I am floating, surprised, not accepting, not happy, maybe in pain, maybe off, maybe just a little bit of everything.
My sister just left us, and it doesn’t feel good. To be honest, I'm not sure why we have to struggle in life and then leave. It’s no longer making sense; how do I even understand this feeling? I wish I was dreaming, but that's not the case. I wish this was one of those bad dreams, but it’s not. I am writing, so I know it’s for real.
My mother and father are both in a bad mood. I feel lonely inside; it’s hard to process and understand. I just want to be fine. It's difficult. It's difficult, and it gets even more difficult as the days pass. Sometimes I laugh, sometimes I cry, and sometimes I find myself remembering both the good and bad times we shared. How do I even accept this bad news that knocked on our door? I don’t want to accept this. I feel bad and sad.
Ogadinma, your voice is beautiful, and you have always wanted to sing for God. You had dreams that never became reality, and I believe you fought the best you could. I know you enjoyed life and definitely would have preferred to live, but maybe you couldn’t anymore. I miss you, and it feels uninteresting over here.
Can you give us one month more? Just maybe a miracle will allow you to cook your favorite dish, dance like you always do, and sing like you always did. I miss you, sister. You always buy me clothes and gifts when I come home.
I don’t know how I will process this. Your second daughter, Chidera, is in shock, and Chidinma is also processing what has happened.
Just before you left us, Dad and Mom told me they wanted to pray, and I knew it wasn't just for me but also for you. I thought you would wait for a little and be with us. I am sorry that your strength failed you. I am trying to be strong; we haven’t faced this type of pain before, and it’s strange.
Your daughter informed me that you sent me a message on WhatsApp that didn't deliver, in which you mentioned that you were in pain. I can't deal.
Please, Ogadinma, come back; it’s so empty at home, and we all want you back. It's too much of a space to be left unfilled.
You left on the 10th of January 2023, and you are being laid to rest today, the 19th of January 2023. I don't feel pain anymore, and it's strange. I shiver when I remember that you are gone. Maybe you can still breathe; that's what comes to my mind.
Life is beginning to make less sense, and I pray it gets better because I am hurting, and it is making me want to always be asleep because that is the best way I can live without this reality.
At first, I didn't understand my feelings, but as I began to face them every day, I realized that life is like a puzzle, and when one piece is missing, no matter how hard I try, I cannot fill it in with another puzzle, and that's the space you have left. I am just a weak sister trying to process and be calm while living and making sure she makes her dad proud. I am deeply broken, but at this point, I have to say, "Jesus, take the wheel," because I can clearly see I cannot do this on my own. My heart keeps beating, but some of my feelings can't be expressed in words but only as feelings, so I will always love you and be there for your kids. I will always do my best to act like their mom, even though I know I can't fill the space. I will always try my best to see life the way they see it right now, but it would have been perfect with you in it.
Thank you for the happy times, thank you for the loyal times, and thank you for teaching me how to forgive and that sisters have issues but we don't have to ignore each other. Thank you, Adanne, and thank you, Patience Jacob. You forgave, you loved, you fought, and you shared happiness, but now you are resting. You are resting, which has been one of the hardest sentences for me to make lately. People say God knows best and take heart; all is well, but I say, "Hmm, I am still processing." Ada Ada, Ada Uche, You are adventurous, but your last days were tough. I am tired of writing; if you see my broken state, please don't be angry, Ada; I miss you. I really miss you, Daddy really misses you, and we are better with you.