By Debbie Olujobi

Life is like a revolving door, people seem to be passing through all the time. There are some who believe I have been hardened by a lot of sorrow early on in life and they could be right. What they observe is my calm acceptance and almost indifference to tragedy. I have found that I cant fight reality, so I tend to just roll with it.

I do my 3 B’s checklist and I move on. I check for the first B, am I bruised or bleeding? Most times I am. I check for the second B, am I broken? Sometimes I am. The 3rd B is the most important as it cancels out the first two; am I breathing? So far the answer has always been yes, so I move on, a breathe at a time. I have learnt to make peace with reality in every form and whether I like it or not death is a part of that.

In my life so far, I can honestly say two deaths have really devastated me and this is because the two people have shaped my life and continue to do so by their enduring legacy. My first ever loss of a loved one occurred on the 3rd of august 1986. My little sister, Modupe died at the age of 10 and till date, even over 3 decades later I still remember the grief in my mom’s voice when she broke the news. It was a painful experience but it paled in comparison to the pain of my two great losses.

There was once a woman that was a friend, counsellor, confidant; she was also my mother. My mom was a maverick who couldn’t be shocked or disgusted out of loving. She was fiery and very passionate but she was 100 percent love, not just for her children but for everything and everyone. We grew up in a large noisy household, games everywhere, food, lots of food and it all centred around this one woman, who opened her home and her heart to everyone.

Her death on the 14th of June 1996 changed life as I knew it and it took years to move forward. My undying and unflinching faith in The Lord has brought me to a place of gratitude for my mother. I am thankful that I was a part of her life, that I carry her in my heart, that I hold true her values, teachings, empathy and even talents. I continue to miss her, there are so many things I want to share with her but all the grumbling and wailing in the world wont bring her back; I have made my peace with that. I would never have thought that losing someone else could hurt as much but life still held in stock a few unpleasant surprises.

There also was once a man, a teacher, a father, a disciplinarian, a mentor; he was also my pastor. Pastor Eskor Mfon went to be with The Lord on the 30th of April 2007, I didn’t learn of the news on that day, I got to hear it in the middle of a business meeting, day after. I had left lagos and had planned to stage a commando visit to see him in London the very day I got the news.

Most members of the church (City of David RCCG) had wanted to visit him but we had been told to let him rest. As the months passed and he didn’t  return some of us had decided to go see him one by one. A friend who had succeeded in seeing him had told me all I needed do was mount sentry at the Tesco supermarket opposite his building between 4-5pm and ambush his wife Pastor Bimpe, so she could take me to see him.

It was not be as he died a day before.  I was not prepared for the pain his death brought; it felt like someone had carved my heart out of my chest and the days and months after were very dark. His death attacked the very foundation of my faith and for years after I stumbled. If the promises God were not fulfilled in his life, how could they be fulfilled in mine? What belief was true and what wasn’t? It took the Holy Spirit to answer those questions and bring peace.

There was once an age of innocence, easy living and optimism. A time when tragedy and pain happened to people you knew from afar; those days are long gone. Two weeks ago I saw a familiar face on a blackberry profile with the dreaded R.I P and had to ask my friend to identify the face. I just knew that I knew this person but the name didn’t strike a chord.

We were about the same age and mixed in the same circle so why couldn’t I remember? A few days later a scene from the past flashed in my mind and I went digging in my old albums. Sure enough, there she was, Funmilola Daramola, at my 23rd birthday. In those days I loved taking pictures and always made sure to write the names of people on their pictures. I spent time looking at those old albums and I could not even relate to the person I used to be; those were the days before innocence died.

The friends I thought I couldn’t live without back then I had even forgotten. The memories came flooding back and I remembered the young doctor, who was brilliant and fun. I remembered her easy smile and gentle manner and I grieved not only the loss of a wife and mother but a friend I had lost to reality. We had all just grown apart all over the world and had lost touch, the tributes I read of her confirmed she remained the beautiful soul I used to know and I could only pray for those most touched by her passing.

This last week, I had felt an ominous presence I could not put my hands on and I was also getting lethargic in prayers. I was beginning to fall into a little depression when I remembered the religious schooling of my Pastor; I call him Eskor the Great. He was a a great scholar of the Bible and I had felt his death was like burning a great library; without any back up. The Bible in Hosea 4:6 says “my people are destroyed for lack of knowledge”.

I thank God for the knowledge imparted by Pastor Eskor, it proved invaluable and life saving this week, 6 years after his passing. It takes me into a place of gratitude, that God placed me under the tutelage of greatness. A part of me felt despondent that he was no more as I would have gone to see him this week, just like I would have gone to spend time with my mother anytime I felt blue.

I did the next best thing and called his widow to testify that the anointing of God upon her husband’s life continues to bless. I pray for all reading this that our lives would matter, that we would touch others, bless others and that someday, after we are gone, we would be missed enough for them to recall that we once were..