It’s often said that anyone who’s had a life-altering
situation or experience never forgets that moment when his or her life changed
forever. I guess this is true now for me too. I remember exactly calling Dr
Abdulahi about seven times within ten minutes and following up with four text
messages within the same period in the wee hours of that fateful day, May 30
this year. How time flies? It will be two weeks by tomorrow.
I had stayed awake all night and was constantly on the phone
with my sister Azuka and also the lady we had come to know and call ‘Aunty
TLC’. Intermittently I called my other sister Dorothy ( another sister, Florence having left for her
US base just a day earlier and was yet to land) and wondered if she and my dad
(God please keep him) could hurry over to the National Hospital in Abuja as my
darling mom had just been wheeled into the ICU as she fought to stay with us.
When I spoke with the Consultant, Dr Wakama at about 1.45am I sensed from his
voice that the fight may not be going our way but that didn’t deter me. I kept
the faith, prayed the Memorare as many times as I could and being in the month
of May, a Marian month (this would make sense to Catholics) I left it in the
hands of God. I had returned from Abuja just two days earlier and had hugged my
mom before leaving for the airport and had told her I would be back to see her.
I kept vigil and worked the phones with Dr Abdulahi, Azuka and aunty TLC. It
was not a good place to be in, trust me. I paced my room, sat up on the bed,
went to the washroom, knelt down and begged God to let my mom stay with us some
more.
The unquestionable God had other plans and felt she had run
a good race and fought a good fight and that it was time for her earthly
sojourn to come to a close.
So in spite of our collective best efforts and those of
friends and people of good disposition, by about 6.30am on May 30 this year, I
became motherless. My life had changed forever. My mommy dearest had gone to be
with God. For her biological children and her many ‘other children’, a light
had gone out, the fire had been extinguished. For our dad, her husband of
forty-nine years and ten months, he had lost a lifelong companion, an unusual
confidante and a sister rolled in one. There can never be another. Our mother
Theresa, our saint had gone marching…