I am learning everyday, life is short. Love life like air, like mango trees. Ije uwa. Only this matters. No matter how small, keep your story. Write it as a note, a song, a book, the wind, or the kernels of a sheri mango. For candles will blow, tears will fall, even mangos grow old and perish. But your story will always remain, always speak for you, even when you become one with the earth.
I’m in a space where stories matter. I know the pain maybe unbearable, but using this medium to share that he lived a great life, like the mango trees of his childhood. May we all get to appreciate time and age so gracefully.