A PERFECTLY ARRANGED BOUQUET💐

I've always liked old people. I love watching them, listening to them, and admiring the lives they've lived. I feel a bulk of this feeling comes from being friends with my grandpa.

You see beyond being my grandfather, Blackie made sure he was my friend. He has a name that only he calls me, and although he is more than eighty years older than I am, I still call him Blackie (yes, that's his actual name). From as far as I can remember, he held conversations with me not as grandfather-to-child but as friends. We discussed everything, from being born on "one fateful Afor day when Obiokala was taking his Alor title", to his days as a "dangerous prosecutor" while he served with the Nigerian Police Force, to his romance story in Isale Eko, to starting a family and loosing his beloved wife. Everything.

 Although at six I might not have understood a lot about loosing a partner, but  I knew he needed a listening ear so I lent him mine. I couldn't offer much, but I knew I wanted to be there. He had lost his partner, and I don't think he needed words. He needed love. When he spoke about their love story, I listened. I listened to everything. I listened because, although he is my grandfather, he is also just a boy who fell in love once. Laying on his one- man camp bed with him in the middle of the courtyard or under the mango tree and just listening to him tell me stories of his love pursuits will continue to be a golden memory.

Blackiee also didn't stop at being my friend, he is also my teacher, I learnt history of Illah from having conversations with him but not just history, English, and his personal favourite geography. One notable memory would be back in Year Two ( that's how they said it in my Ikoyi primary school) my teacher asked during English class, "Who knows the parts of speech?"

 I was so excited to continue beyond the five they had taught us in Year One. I proudly shouted, "Conjunction and interjection!" even though I had no idea what they meant. I was simply happy because my grandfather had taught me the parts of speech during the holiday.

The holiday was something I always looked forward to because it left me with more stories and experiences than I could count but more than that, I looked forward to drinking my granpa's famous concoction tea he made every harmattan morning. Who knew Milo, Lipton, Bournvita, Nescafé coffee, milk, Ovaltine, and two cubes of sugar could create such an amazing cup? The secret was shuffling it back and forth between two mugs until it reached the perfect temperature.  Don't judge until you try it, I just gave you a secret family recipe. You are welcome.

Of course, what made it even more special was that I never had to make it for myself.

He also made sure to remind his grandchildren often that he was a policeman with mock parades. He made sure we put our backs into marching before rewarding us with two Tom Tom candies each.

You know the saying that food is an African parent's favourite love language? Well, Blackie wasn't left out. Blackie let me sip from almost every cup he drank from. He always left something for me from almost every plate he ate from. He prayed for me at every opportunity and thoroughly enjoyed all my little dramatic displays which earned me names like rascal.

So, while everyone travelled for the holidays, I always excited to return to my little paradise in Illah. 

And so when Christmas came last year and I didn't spend with my grandpa, something in me shifted. Maybe it was the realization that time is moving. Maybe it was the understanding that some of the people we love most will not always be exactly as we have known them. Whatever it was, it made me think about him a lot.

So, i've decided to write this open letter to him.

Dear Blackiee,

Nnam Shine, Odogwu Nwoke, Diokpa Allah Ncha, Ogbuenyi.

I believe in giving people their flowers while they can still smell them, so this perfectly arranged bouquet is for you. Firstly, I can't wait to see you in December.  I also recently saw my university result and I'm glad to tell you one of us now has a first-class degree. All that prayer and encouragement finally paid-off.

Looking back now, I think that was enough.

my favourite storyteller, eternal lover boy, teacher, prayer warrior, and friend, thank you.

Thank you for the stories, the lessons, the prayers, the tea, the candies, the laughter, and the love.

I love you my Blackie.

May your flowers never stop blooming.

If your grandparents are still here or any old friends you may have, do well to tell them how much they mean to you because we  can't really tell what  tomorrow holds.

Till Next time, remember I love you and you should love you too.

Lots of Love, 

Bunma💕