From the very first day I met you, you welcomed me with love and warmth. You never treated me as a daughter-in-law, but as a daughter.

I will always remember your words to my father at my introduction: “I have come for my daughter, whom you have taken such good care of for me.”

You gave my daughter her name, a name she carries with pride, and you extended your love not only to me but to my parents as well.

Thank you for your love, your care, and your constant support. You will be deeply missed, but forever remembered with gratitude.

Daddy lived a full 81 years. To look back at the man he was in his youth: vibrant, strong, always moving with purpose, it is hard to reconcile how age eventually slowed him down. Yet even in those later years, the depth of his care for us never dimmed. Every sacrifice he made was for one reason only: to see his family succeed, to see us independent and thriving.

He demanded discipline, as fathers of his generation often did. But he also balanced it with a tenderness that was unmistakable. I remember him handing me the newspaper as a child, insisting that I read even if it was only the cartoons. But there was always a lesson attached: I had to ask at least one question about something that stirred my curiosity. Over time, this practice became the foundation of my love for current affairs, fueling conversations with him that spanned politics, history, and the world beyond our walls.

Those conversations were never one-sided.

My father believed that children, too, had a voice worth hearing. Unlike many parents of his era, he did not silence us with the claim that only adults should speak. Instead, he encouraged us to share our thoughts, while guiding us with the etiquette and grace needed to engage meaningfully in public discussions.

Daddy had a way of giving freedoms while still applying invisible guardrails. He trusted us to make choices, but he also reminded us of responsibility. We shared an emotional bond too. I once confided in him about my academic struggles in my early Uni days, and the tears in his eyes sparked in me a determination that has carried me through life; an inner fire lit by his love and my commitment to earn his trust.

He loved music, gatherings, and people. In that, I take after him. Our home was never quiet; the voices and melodies from Dele Abiodun, Sunny Ade, Obey, Barrister, IK Dairo, Tunde Nightingale, often wafted through our home. Friends were always welcome, and on Ileya celebrations, our house in Warri or Sagamu became a lively place of banter, laughter, and shared meals. He was truly a man of the people: charming, open, and ever ready to share an experience as his way of coaching. I recall with fondness how he would visit me at the University of Ibadan, long after most fathers considered their sons independent. Even when it embarrassed me, it was a testament to his boundless care. He stood beside me in difficult times, his quiet support unwavering, his only mission my happiness and success.

He was also open-minded in ways that were rare for his time. When I embraced Christianity, his response was not one of judgment, but of understanding and acceptance; a reminder that love, at its purest, has no walls.

I treasure the last time he visited me in Lagos. Over tea in the courtyard, he spoke softly about his youth, his early career journey, meeting our mum.

He was quietly preparing us for a future without him. One day, he even told me where he wanted to be laid to rest when the time came.

And on May 2nd, 2025, in the stillness of the morning, Daddy slipped away quietly, leaving behind a legacy of love, wisdom, and strength.

May God rest his soul and grant him Aljannah Firdaus.

Daddy – Forever in my heart.