Till we meet again, brother.
I miss you. It hurts. The Icy hands of death dealt me a big blow. It hurts. I picture your face and it hurts further because there’s no tomorrow, just memories. Just memories. It hurts. They aren’t enough. It really hurts. I thought I knew pain, I thought I had felt it but this, this… it’s cruel. Do we live to just die? Is the reward of life death?
I said I was intrigued by death but this isn’t it. You were there from the beginning, when I wrote my first series, when I needed a place to while away the day. Best moments after secondary school was spent at yours and that was the year I knew you. Morning to night, everyone was welcomed. The boys would gather just bantering, and bantering, being youthful. I would walk into your kitchen and make some fire peppery noddles, grab bread and peanut butter from your fridge, anything my fat arse could lay it’s chubby fingers on and no complaint. Lol jokes. You’d call out my fat arse🤣. Your home was welcome to all, so was your heart.
You tried your hand in everything possible: photography, art, shirt branding, kickboxing, writing etc. You never backed down from a challenge. You were always lively and cheerful with a permanent annoying smirk on your face. So easy going I don’t think I ever saw you angry. That’s why every loved you. That’s why we all love you.
I would post pictures of my gym progress and your reply was always, “Captain Biafra.” My heart is heavy, bro. I really want you back. Your death has brought tears to our eyes. For the first time, for the first time, bro, I have heard the strongest of us cry. There’s no recovering from this. You left behind a legacy for our love for you will never die. This really hurts. This doesn’t do your memory justice but I can’t find the words because it fucking hurts.
Gbenga Lawson — a friend, a brother, till we meet again.

