Dear Ifeanyi,

Happy 27th birthday Ify.  Though you are no longer with us, this day will always remain special as the day you came into our lives and filled it with joy and laughter.   I remembered taking your mom to the hospital in Ikorodu  Lagos, very early that morning as we saw signs of labour. Out of ignorance, I left her in the hospital left for my office then at GRA Ikeja. I only  knew of your birth when I came back in the evening. This was pre- GSM era when telephone was a luxury.

Today, you are celebrating and dancing with the Angels as you did with your mom on the joint celebration of your 25^th birthday with her as she clocked 50 in May 2022. Watching that dance, the pride of a husband and father welling up in me, I   also thought the  steps were a form of rehearsal on your wedding day whenever you were ready to take a wife. Little did I know it was your last ceremonial dance as a family.

It’s hard to believe but it is  almost a year since that Black Monday, July 10, 2023, when we received the morbid call from your office in Victoria Island. They told us you had collapsed in the canteen  and was rushed to the hospital.  But despite all efforts, the doctors couldn’t save you. That day changed our lives forever.

Maybe with the benefit of your celestial body, can you go back to that incident and give me a clear picture of what happened.  Let me ask: what really happened? Because nobody in your office has been able to give us a real account of what happened. They only told us it was a cleaner in the canteen that alerted them of your condition as people don’t usually come there to eat until afternoon.  Did you collapse as you entered the canteen clutching your food flask you brought from home or you choked while eating? Some of your colleagues who saw you that morning on your way to the canteen told us you were in high spirits listening to music from your phone with the ear device.  It is a paradox that the job you love so much lost you; you didn’t lose the job as you were won’t to ask your mom: “ do you want me to lose my job?”. That the incident that led to your untimely death happened in the office showed how your were not only physically but also spiritually intertwined with the job.  You gave it your all like you did in the previous employments.

Since you left us, the house has not been the same. Your mother, your younger siblings, and I miss you terribly. The pain we feel is overwhelming. The void you left is unfillable. We think of you every day, wishing you could knock on the kitchen  door and walk in like you do when coming back from the office.

Your passing caused an unprecedented wave of mourning, not just within our family, but globally. It was astonishing to see such an outpouring of love and respect for someone so young, especially considering we are just ordinary people. You were loved by so many, and it was clear that your life had touched countless hearts. Your friends and colleagues miss your “ how far now” greetings on the phone accompanied by a short laughter.  Some said you spoke to them that Monday morning. Albert and David, two your friends came from the UK to pay us condolence visit. Numerous others  and your former colleagues at Fidelity Pension Managers were all united in grief.

I often look back to the wonderful memories we shared, like your holiday in Atlanta with your mom and younger sister shortly after your graduation. You were so excited being your first trip outside Nigeria.  You had wanted to stay behind, but I insisted you come back to complete your NYSC program before heading back for your master’s degree. Those were happy times, full of promise and hope for the future.

I also recall with great nostalgia our trips to Babcock University during your undergraduate days when we all sit in the car to eat the special food brought to you by your mom to complement the “meatless” food served at Babcock canteens.  The fried chicken bowls were special treats as you had enough to share with your roommates. I remembered the great reception we organised in our home as friends and neighbours joined us  to celebrate your graduation in 2018. Not even the heavy downpour that Sunday afternoon could dampen the joy that we all felt as a family.

Are you by chance watching the English Premier League there? If not let me fill you in. In the just concluded season   there was an epic match between Chelsea( my club)  and Man United( your club).  Chelsea beat Man U 4-3 in that match. I would have taunted you with the hail of “Up Man U” to which you will smile and go ahead to analyse why Man U lost the match they were leading just five minutes to the end of the game. And just on Sunday, against all odds, Man U beat Man City at Wembley to clinch the 2024 FA Cup. Book makers and indeed football fans,  never gave Man U a chance considering the gulf in class between the two Manchester teams in recent years. So you people will play Europa League next season. Up Man U!

I miss our professional discussions on brand management, consumer behaviour, digital marketing  among others. And even our disagreements, like the ones over your beard, which you insisted on keeping despite  my protestations on the size.  The reality of your absence is something we face every day. I miss your interventions in my late-night laptop troubles.  We miss   your calm presence .  Your 25th birthday, celebrated alongside your mom’s 50th, now feels like a farewell dance. You seemed so full of life, as if you knew your time was short.

We find solace in the belief that you are in the bosom of the Lord. Many of your friends and our family friends have told us that you appeared to them in their dreams reassuring us that you are in a better place. Just last week, your mom said you appeared to her, telling her not to be depressed because it was God’s will. But why? Didn’t the Bible say that God will satisfy us with long life and show us his salvation? Or that the blessing of the Lord makes rich and does not come with sorrow? Your mom  has managed to stay calm through the help of the Holy Spirit but this past week has been very challenging for her and indeed all of us as your birthday drew close.

You were always a quiet and gentle soul, almost taciturn, bearing your challenges with religious equanimity.  I never expected your journey to end so soon. We had so much plans together especially on your career trajectory, just like we do for all of you. I was always nudging you to get your own apartment so you can start life as a man.  But you have ended your journey.  So abruptly.  Such is life. We cannot query God.

To honor your memory, we are establishing the Ifeanyi Michael Foundation for youth empowerment and career counseling.  This way, your legacy will continue to inspire and uplift others.

Happy 27th birthday once more, Ify. Until we meet on the resurrection morning, you will always live  in our hearts.

With all my love.

Your dad,

Mike.

Mike Nzeagwu, PR expert and mediapreneur, wrote in memory of his late son who died last year at the age of 26..