Father’s Day remains, for me, one of the most difficult days of the year. Some years are gentler than others, but there are days I simply do not have it in me to say “Happy Father’s Day” to anyone. It feels, at times, like a greeting meant for a distant world — a world where my father wasn’t snatched away so cruelly. And yet, even in that ache, I remember: my Heavenly Father never left.
Ironically, Father’s Day almost became the last day I saw him. But something — a nudge, a grace, a force I still cannot name — propelled me to visit months later. That visit became the last.
Two weeks ago, I wrote about giving people their flowers while they are still on this side of heaven. The response was overwhelming — thank you. But the truth behind that message is heavier than the words suggest. Sometimes we nurture those flowers, prune them, pluck them, prepare them with love and intention… only for the person we meant them for to be gone before they ever touch them.
I once thought I had it all figured out. I had what I believed was a well-laid plan — a simple but heartfelt dream to send my parents on a vacation. Nothing extravagant; I was fresh out of school and could barely afford much. But it was a pilgrimage every Catholic dreams of: a visit to the Vatican. A small way to honour two people who had sacrificed so much for me.
Before that dream could be materialized, death came quietly and stole my Dad away.
No warning.
No sign.
Just a phone call the next day telling me he was gone — and it was I who had to deliver the news to my Mum.
Life stood still.
Everything lost its meaning.
I felt hollow, breathless, suspended between disbelief and pain.
I was suffocating and I couldn’t even ask “why,” though every part of me wanted to scream it.
It took time — more time than I admitted to anyone — to process what had happened. To accept that a nurse, aided by a broken system, had sent him to his death. A system that failed him. A system that continues to fail so many.
Why speak about this twelve years later?
Because nothing has changed. The system is still broken. If anything, even more fractured now. It continues to send our loved ones to early graves, and we continue to pretend we have time.
But we don’t. Today is all we have.
So let us not wait for Father’s Day, Mother’s Day, birthdays, or holidays to tell people they do indeed matter. Let us not wait for the perfect moment, the perfect plan, or the perfect bouquet. Sacrifices come in many forms, and our fathers — and mothers — deserve to reap the fruits of their labour of love while they can still taste them.
If you come from my part of the world, and grew up in an average or middle‑class home, you know this truth well: our parents gave up their entire worlds so we could build ours. And even today, that cycle continues.
So, continue to give the flowers now.
Say the words now.
Show the love now.
Because tomorrow is never promised — and the people who carried us deserve to feel our gratitude while they are still here to receive it.
Here’s to all those who left without being honoured as they deserved.
And here’s to us — continuing to honour one another while we still can.
28 Responses
Wonderful Heartfelt Tribute to an Amazing Man. Never forgotten and his legacy continues. Happy Father’s Day to one and all. The responsibility continues. On the broken Healthcare system… we pick up that conversation later.
Appreciated. Thank you love.
Rest in perfect peace, Grandpa 🙏.
Amen child 🙏🏽.
Profound
Thanks Doc!
It’s incredible to think that 12 years have passed so quickly. It still feels like it was just yesterday. Rest peacefully, Uncle Ashun. You are truly missed and forever in our hearts.
Almost sis. 12 Father’s days since tho. Amen to that 🙏🏽.
This is a very poignant reminder. Thank you for helping us to look at this from the lens of not knowing how much time we indeed have with each of our loved ones. Even in your words that serve as a reminder to us reading this, you have conveyed not only the depth of your love for your father as well as given us an inkling to the depth of your grief over his untimely passing. Condolences to you and your family and thank you for using hard circumstances in such an inspiring way.
Thank you so much sis. Means a lot to me.
Lovely post. Thank you 🩷
Thanks Dear.
Beautifully said Dr June. This is a powerful reminder that love, appreciation, and gratitude should never be postponed. Our parents and loved ones deserve to hear our words of thanks and feel our love while they are still with us. May we never take their sacrifices for granted, but honor them through our words, actions, and presence. Thank you for this timely and heartfelt message.
Thank you so much sis. Appreciate you.
Thanks Dr.
His memory will forever remain in our hearts, may he continue to rest peacefully ❤️
Amen ooo. Thank u so much.
So so inspiring. I always remember that infectious smile from daddy. May his handsome soul continue to rest in the Lord. It’s been amazing always reading your script. Keep it up dear🥰❤️
Thank you luv. Appreciate you.
Should I call this an eulogy? Such a beautiful piece. Daddy will be proud of your poetic prowess and literary mastery wherever he is. Indeed, Daddy was ripped from us so cruelly and I am so proud of you because almost 12 years later you’ve kept his memory alive. Eva, you have memorialised the family’s tragedies through your books and writings. Your dedication really shows. God richly bless you.
Thank you uncle KP. God bless you too. You were there till the end and still are.
Eva my dear you have said it all.
“Who no know go know. “This saying is what he left for me. Indeed he is forever in our hearts. Being a devoted Christian, I know he is in a better place as the bible says a place where there is no pain or sorrow but joy ever lasting.
Lol. True talk auntie Hilda. He sure is.
Thank you for your bravery and vulnerability in sharing your story.
It speaks volumes.
Well said. A much needed reminder that tomorrow is not promised. Thank you. ❤️
Thank u hun.
Very descriptive and emotional. He’s proud!
Appreciated Arsen. Thank u.
Thank you for the inspiration my novel, poetic scientist. keep it up Sis.
It’s amazing that after so many years, pain still affects us; sometimes in ways we would not think of, or have even expected.
Your writing/sharing your experiences doesn’t just give you healing. It simultaneously presents us, your readers, with an alternate outlook on our own life circumstances. Though we may not have lost a loved one, per se, we see that it is okay to grieve, for however long it takes. Okay to grieve over something that mattered greatly to us that we no longer have access to. Grieving the opportunity we missed, that friendship, even that significant investment that we lost. It is okay to grieve for a moment, take a lesson from it, and use that to make a memorable impact of some sort.
For that, we say thank you for sharing.