Goodnight, Bibi

Dear Bibi,

I don’t know how to write this,

Somehow, I’m still waiting for you to jump out and yell, “SUPRISE!”

And give you an earful for such a terribly bad joke

But it’s been 2 weeks now, and I’m still living the bad joke

I’ve thought a lot about the right words to string together to suit the moment

I’m sorry, but I keep failing woefully; I come up short, and words keep catching in my throat.

And this blank screen staring back at me is a constant taunt.

My own efforts to find words a dismal failure; I can’t help but recall your own words,

Last year, we worked on an essay for your scholarship applications for a psychology degree program

And I picked out an excerpt from the essay, which I find does a far more eloquent job than I can of capturing the essence of the woman that you were,

“There’s so much wrong with the way Nigeria treats mentally ill kids, as sick and demon-possessed. The trouble was I seemed to be the only one who could see that. There were many parents with special needs kids who felt it was their job to make their kids “normal” again. These experiences motivated me to create a safe space for children to talk about their mental health and get professional help.

It’s unlikely that I’ll be able to protect all students that Nigeria has failed. There’s just not enough patient hours in a single day. But fixing Nigeria’s mental health care problems extends beyond the four walls of hospitals to classrooms, places of worship, orphanages and homes. Although this evolution will likely outlive me, I aim to set it in motion by acquiring a world-class education that will equip me to treat patients and train caretakers.”

Bibi, you were a woman who always had an eye for the little guy or girl in the corner.

You noticed the unnoticed,

And saw the unseen,

“How are you?

“How do you feel?”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Your questions were always loaded with more questions.

Last year was one of the toughest for me, and you made it a point to come spend time at my place,

You joined me on my early morning walks

My early morning walks were a sacred ritual which I’d do mostly alone to clear my head, but you insisted that you tag along.

See, that was the other remarkable thing about you, Bibi,

You had a knack for figuring out what people loved and loving it as hard as they did,

I didn’t say it enough, but you would have made an excellent psychiatrist.

I’ve asked God to tender a detailed explanation

Why now?

Why Bibi?

Why????????

But knowledge is one thing, and understanding another,

Even if God explained,

Who's to say I’d even understand it?

Thus, I take solace and draw caution from the words in Psalm 90:12

“Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom”

Until we meet again,

Goodnight Bibi