On this day last year, I wrote about the buildup of events that led to my dad’s passing. I also said that day started the most chaotic year of my life. I didn’t lie. Today, on the second anniversary of his death, I thought to write to you about grief and how I have dealt with it because, in truth, grief does not leave you; it just gets better. Over the past year, across my social media platforms, I talked a lot about how his death triggered emotions in me that I didn't know existed—new descents into the deep, new levels of highs—anything to get into my emotions or consciously get out of the physically overwhelming feeling that was like a weighted blanket most days. Because I lived quite far from home—up north, to be exact—my guardians broke the news to me at the crack of dawn that Tuesday, and I was broken, as anyone who hears bad news is. I was stumped mostly, but yeah, I was broken. The first person I called was my mom, and on answering the phone, she started to say my oriki , w
Photo by Artur Tumasjan on Unsplash ‘Let me help you out.’ I hear the voice call. I look up to see the brightest smile I have ever seen on a human. Her face is elegant, shiny, and well-structured. She must have seen me struggling with my one too many bags. I love the gesture, so lovely and pure. Genuine and selfless. She has just one box with her and a small bag slung across her chest. She looks happy. I wonder why. ‘You look like you have a lot going on’, she continues. ‘I really do’, I reply with genuine happiness and laughter. ‘Thank you very much,’ I continue in gratitude as I hand over my largest box to her. She looks willing to help, her hand is already stretched out to help. Her offer to help warms my heart. Not often do you meet someone who genuinely wants to help you out with your bags at the airport. At least not here. I rarely get help as much as I get looks and compliments from strangers. The best I can think of is getting a ride, not getting help with my bags at the airp