Writing with Juliet Iwelunmor

May your knowledge be like the Nile, your words blaze like a torch. May they build and plant. And like honey, remain sweet. May your words be like the morning star. Shining through the world like a full moon. May they be like roses in springtime. Lillies besides a stream. May they be like olives, full and fruitful. Like cypress trees, tall and useful. May they always be in perfect splendor. Majestic too in sight. And even if face to face with death, I pray your words find a way still, to walk in light and love. Keep your words!

I have been reflecting on words my Papa used to share when he was alive. I still hear him in my head everything I open the book of his words. They say some memories are like blessings. They make your heart become strong. Strong enough for anything. The beauty of the one he named Isioma is that our ways are like the whirlwind. He knew from the moment I was born. His words and memory are a blessing. One that I choose to reflect on as we begin the celebration of the life and times of the man everyone called Papa. You were wise beyond your times, a gift to so many. I thank God that I walk in your footsteps. Your body maybe laid to rest, but I feel you deeply everyday. And these days, all the words you left for me, are as sweet as honey and I intend to use them to the glory of your name, that name that reminds me always of how anger should never ever reach our souls. All the offspring of the man we all call Papa Iwelunmor are celebrating your wisdom this week. We begin first with your words…