BYE- BYE STELLA

BYE- BYE STELLA

This morning, in Atta Ikeduru in Imo State, the land in which my father was born, we will take her body to the old Saint Mary's Catholic Church in Ogada and thereafter, my friend will be laid to rest. It was to the same church that the body of my father was taken and before him that of my mother, as we said bye to each of them.

Yesterday, I was at my father's old house beside which, both my parents rest. The house, at some point, used to be considered the most glamourous building in my locality and people came from far and near just to look at it. The road that passes in front of my father's house was busy almost 24 hours a day. Before everyone sank a borehole, they came to the river named after my late father to fetch water to drink and to cook. It was in the same river that I learnt to swim.

No one goes to the river anymore. In fact, since the "express" was built, almost nobody passes the old road anymore. The same road that seemed to have led to everywhere! So, my father's old house stands wondering where everybody has gone.

That is the story of life, the story of all our lives. We come and we go. We are the stars of today but the history of tomorrow. Even our children that run around us will move on in search of their own lives. Someday, we will wake up to find that we are the only ones left at home.

As we struggle and squabble and fight with all our might, we should all sometimes go back to our old father's house. It might just help sink it in that we might be the big stars of today but we will be the history of tomorrow.   

Now and then, I wonder whether we know that ultimately, each one of us will pass away. Indeed, every day we are on the road to passing away. Of course, there are those so dear to us that we keep praying that they live for a long-long time because we cannot imagine life without them because of the way they have touched our lives.

Stella Ngozi Okoroji was not just a sister-in-law. She was my friend, my very good friend. She was one of those people that lit up my world.

Since my parents are no longer here, my friends wonder why I go home from Lagos so regularly. Stella was one sweet reason I have done so. She always had a smile waiting for me, an enchanting smile. Probe deeper and you will find one special bowl of ugba, the delicacy for which every good Igbo woman is known, waiting for me.

If Stella did not see me, she would call and in her quiet way ask me about work, family and the many challenges she knows I keep dealing with. Stella Ngozi Okoroji was my person!

You can then imagine what it was like, that early morning of October 11, 2018 when I received what was a heart-breaking text message from Emeka Eric, her son, my nephew, my guy and young confidant. The text read "Uncle, my world is finished, my mum is dead" "What?!", I exclaimed.

I speak with Mekus almost every other day and he never mentioned to me that his mother whom he knows is very dear to me, had any headache, bellyache, cough or any sickness of any sort. How come?

To say that I am heart-broken is to put it mildly. Every death is a loss but some deaths leave enduring scars for the rest of your life. The death of Stella Ngozi Okoroji has left such scars.

I however do not agree with Mekus and I have told him so. His world is not finished. His mother expects so much of him as she expects of Ugochukwu, Chigozie, Ezinne, Onyedikachi, Chimuanya and Obinna, all her children. They all still have a long road to travel and I know that she still loves them and will be watching and guiding them to success each step of the way.

Meanwhile, who will make that special plate of ugba, the way Stella did it for me? Who will give me that truly enchanting smile the way Stella did? Who now takes the first two loaves of bread I buy when coming home?

Adieu Stella Ngozi Okoroji. Adieu my special friend.

See you next week.