A GIRL NEEDS HER FATHER

As our car rolled into the gate of the cemetery, there was a light breeze even though the sun hung bright overhead. The air was cool, dry and somewhat stiff and it seemed as though even the elements knew how heavy our hearts were. We sat under a white canopy and ahead of us were cenotaphs of men of the military gone to the great beyond. Right in front was a tiled, open dug-out grave, with an embellished headstone lying by the side. A mammoth crowd had gathered, in blue attires, with eyes glazed with tears, to pay our last respect to a great man, husband, father, son, brother, uncle, boss, friend, and colleague.

In Military fashion, every aspect of this funeral ceremony was organized to the T. Sitting arrangements, organization of the band, invited guests, family and friends were done following military precision. The casket sat atop a table, in a bright white color, with the Nigeria flag draped over it. Adorning the casket were his boots, cap and sword. With these, those who were ever in doubt of his death had quickly began to accept fate. Many a teary eyed people gazed at the coffin, then at the family and to the dugout hole.

I sat, gazing intently at my aunt and her daughters, dressed in all white ensembles gazing at the hole and coffin that held the remains of their husband and father. Mentally, I willed my gaze that was focused on them to somehow transfer strength to them while I whispered breath-prayers asking God that they not breakdown in a well of tears and grief.

My aunt sat hunched with grief into the huge leather seat. She looks so tiny. It broke my heart to see this strong woman become so shrunken with pain. But somehow she managed to keep her eyes dry though red. With her daughters nestled beside her, they seem to draw strength from her. A true soldier’s wife, she portrayed strength even amidst this painful moment.

While I looked on still at this obviously close, tight-knit family, I couldn’t help my mind going to the eldest daughter and the youngest. As I look at them my heart breaks. For the eldest, a teenager, still trying to figure out what life held for her as a pre-adult, this was a time she most needed her father. A firm hand to nudge her and loving arm to hug her to let her know she will always be daddy’s little girl. For the youngest, not much older than I was when I lost my father, this must be a really confusing time for her. She knows she has lost her father but she probably hasn’t understood the magnitude of such a loss. 

My mind wandered to the last time I saw my uncle. They were in Abuja for an event and they came with the little baby. I remembered her nestled in her daddy’s lap. They were really close as he was with all his kids. You would think being an Officer made him unapproachable, but not when you saw him around his family; it wasn’t hard to see the unadulterated love that poured through from him. Little Mama as she is fondly called, begged to sleep over at my family house. She stayed in my room, earning her the nickname “roommate”. A sweet, open, loving and happy child, an extension of her father.

Through the gun salutes, reading of the biography, folding of the flag and presentation of insignias to the family, they stood close, dry eyed. But while the pall bearers began slowly descending the casket into the grave they broke out in tears. It was as though they had before then all traveled to an alternate planet but had just now returned to earth. 

As the ceremony ended, I watched them walk to the freshly covered grave; lay wreathes on the concrete slab and walk towards the car that will convey them back home. The eldest daughter holding the Army boots belonging to their late father while the youngest had donned on his ceremonial cap.

Throughout the ceremony as I have done since news of his loss reached me, I prayed ceaselessly for God’s peace on his beautiful family and succor and comfort to rule their hearts. And I added one which I hadn’t before “Dear Lord, be a father to these children. Prod them, direct them, provide for them, Love them, strengthen them and keep the preying wolves away, Amen”. 

As we exit the gates of the cemetery, I let my eyes wander around to the hundreds of graves of other deceased officers. Many died on the same dates as their tombstones read and it forced me to come to terms with my own mortality. As I shared my grief with my family who had just lost their pillar, I thought of the many other families who had at one time or the other gathered on that same ground to commit their father, mother, husband, wife, son, or daughter, to mother earth.

Though we mourn his passing with a heavy heart, we find solace in the fact that he loved and truly served the Lord and he eschewed violence everywhere he went.

Rest on Brig. Gen. KH Yakubu

In this month of love, let's extend our warm heart to all those who wouldn't have a smile to share this season. May God's love envelope them and grant them peace... Amen.