“For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain.”
Philippians 1:21 (English Standard Version)

Da, good morning. I’m not even sure where and how to start this. I’ve been talking to you and thinking of you everyday. I can’t believe you are gone. It’s hard for me to accept that you have breathed your last breath. Yes, I’ve always known this day will come. I thought I had been preparing myself, but clearly I wasn’t. I was aware when I last saw you in person almost 2 years ago that it could very well be the last time. I had been asking and praying that I would get to see you again before you departed this earth, but you knew differently. When I look back to the things you shared with me, I realize you were more attuned than I was. I am so glad I had the chance to tell you and Ma how grateful I am for all that you both sacrificed for us and how you raised us.
 
You were simple, kind, firm yet gentle, oh so gentle. Yet, you always seemed bigger than life. When I was a child, I couldn’t understand how come you paid little attention to materialistic things. You put so much of yourself into relationships. You understood that people count so much more than things. You made it your very essence to be there for others, you lived a full life. You ran the race, you made your God tangible and visible to all. For that, I am grateful, because in that you and Ma taught us what mattered most— individual investment in people, loving them with the same love that our Heavenly Father has for us. You modeled values of integrity, honesty, hard work, dedication and commitment, as well as perseverance. I am thankful that your reverence for God enabled us to learn these values from you. We were blessed to see that you were the same person as home that others saw outside the home. You taught us the importance of respecting and being gracious to everyone, that everyone is precious in God’s eyes.
 
I have so many memories- riding in front of you on the scooter when you dropped us off at Nursery in the late 1960s and early 70’s; learning my first lesson in how to properly watch the Eclipse in the 70’s; watching you cook for us when Ma travelled; catching rides with you to and from Accra; allowing me to read your books; teaching me early on what to look for when assessing written work. I remember how you would gather us around you when we were very young and tell us stories, while you sat on the watchman’s chair on the porch. Such precious times. So many memories. You never ever raised your voice, no matter how upset you were; you always woke us up gently, calling in your regular voice, whenever we overslept. You had a great sense of humor, a lovely balance to the seriousness you cultivated in all aspects of your life. I remember how you could never pass a tease whenever you brought me letters from Kingsley. I miss you so much, but God knew best.
 
Your rest is here, Da, take it. You have fulfilled your purpose, your race is over. We will carry on the huge legacy you have left behind, God being our helper.
Rest In Peace, Da. We will meet again.
 
Da, mo ya wɔ saminya ngɛ Nyɔtsɛ Yesu mi. Mawu nɛ wo mo kɛ wo emisi, ka ta be ni wo ma kpee ekohu.