I remember these days, like a woman in labor, pain at the thought of pushing, but grace at the sound of new beginnings. Death has a way of reminding you to begin. New chapters, new stories, new life without those who once gave life. If this is a reminder, then Papa thank you for piercing through.
But know that the sound of your life, unforgettable. Papa, our forever love. Rereading your letters. A blessing. Every single word in place. Near our heart. You will always remain.
You were our highest mountains, and tallest towers. All we are is within reach. Like God shining from Zion. You are like a city perfect in beauty that no death can deny. Your greatness will remain. Those not yet born, will praise you.
Our Papa would have been 84 today. Because of him, it will be said that we lived. Strong and mighty, the source of our blessings. To know Papa was to know love and joy and anything else that personifies grace. He gave us the best of himself. Made us all stand tall and supreme like Mount Zion. I will always love you Papa. Sleep on.
Writing with Juliet Iwelunmor 
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