While so much has been talked about a mother’s sacrifice, not so much is talked about the sacrifice of a father. A female Nigerian writer has taken to social media to pay glowing tribute to her late father. AritOkpo’s dad was laid to rest on April 5th and to honor the exceptional man that he was.
Okpo, who revealed that she would like to remember the imperfect moments she shared with her dad while growing up, shared some of those moments.
In one, she explained that her dad drove her everyday to school while she was writing her exams, adding that he would stay until she finished every paper just to be sure that she was okay.
Read her sweet story below…
Let me tell you guys a Daddy story. I wrote GCE in 97( so some of you really need to start calling me Auntie). My parents weren’t sure whether I should write it or not, so by the time we decided, I ended up having to write in Akamkpa, which is an hour or so from Calabar.
First day, my Father drove me there in his Beetle. I said goodbye to him, wrote the first paper and then came out for a break. And there was my Father, napping in the car under a tree. He’d taken time off work to sit and wait for me. I went back inside feeling really safe.
He drove me there the next day and on the way back, the Beetle wouldn’t go into or out of one gear – I forget which. We spent some time on this very deserted stretch of road trying to sort it out.
My father was so scared that something would happen again with the car that he refused to drive me to my exams anymore. So he’d take me to the bus park, wait for the bus to load and be there when I got back. Every single paper.
Last year when I saw him, I asked what he would drink, he said water and I said Nope. I’ve waited a long time to be grown up enough to share a beer with you. He chuckled, I ordered us a couple of Guinnesses. It felt like I’d always dreamed it would.
He’s being laid to rest today. So I’m leafing through my memories and these are the ones I am holding on to. This imperfect man who loved me very much.
I’m very much like him in many ways. We have the same approach to conflict, the same impatience with things we don’t like, the same deliberateness, the same love for the good life, the same quickness to tears. Sometimes I laugh like him – silently, shoulders heaving up and down.
I didn’t get to do all the things I’d hoped to do for him, but I’m glad he got to experience just a little of it. Glad he finally got to hear me say I was voice of African Voices. He was so proud of that. I’m glad I got to see and accept him beyond fatherhood, as a person.
I’m oscillating between calm release and deep unexpected grief. Have felt him so strongly these past few days. Felt his love and acceptance. I haven’t lost my Dad, I’ve gained an ancestor and a guide.
Daddy look out for Auntie Pam. She’s the big boisterous woman who will likely be bossing people around. She also takes care of me from up. You guys will get along like a house on fire.
I am proud to be your daughter. Even prouder to be your friend. I love you. Always. And I’ll do my best to take care of things here. Always. Your Akpanwa.”
Let me tell you guys a Daddy story. I wrote GCE in 97( so some of you really need to start calling me Auntie). My parents weren't sure whether I should write it or not, so by the time we decided, I ended up having to write in Akamkpa, which is an hour or so from Calabar
