One of my earliest memories with my grandmother is from a sunny afternoon during one of the long holidays. My brother, my cousin, and I were outside when an ice-cream vendor passed by. Without hesitation, my grandmother decided to get us some. I can never forget the flavour, FanIce strawberry.
As my brother opened his, it completely poured out. The same thing happened to my cousin. I found it so amusing and laughed at their unfortunate situation, only for the exact same thing to happen to me moments later. Then the three of them burst out laughing at me. Seeing us like that, she decided to get us more ice cream. From that day on, every holiday we visited, she always made sure strawberry-flavoured ice cream was stocked, knowing we were coming. That routine continued until 2020, when she sadly passed away from cancer. The news of her death left everyone completely devastated. At first, it did not fully hit me. It was about six months later, on a particular Wednesday, when my spirit was very low, that the reality finally settled in. I decided I needed some ice cream, obviously strawberry-flavoured. As I ate it, memories of moments I shared with my grandmother began to flood my mind, and that was when I truly broke down.
I realised that whenever I went to her house again, there would be no ice cream stocked. Nobody would run excitedly to hug her grandchildren. Nobody would tell me stories about what it was like to grow up in Nigeria in the 1960s. In that moment, the permanence of her absence became clear.
Yet, I later understood that I was wrong to think she was truly gone. Although her soul has left this world, she is still with me, in my memories and in the fleeting moments of eating strawberry-flavoured ice cream and suddenly reminiscing. She will always be there. Through her death, I learned to cherish moments while they are happening, to romanticise my life, and to intentionally create new and meaningful memories with the people I love.
I have also learned that grief is inevitable when we lose those we love, and that it is okay. It simply means the time spent together was meaningful. Grief has no deadline. There is no correct timeline for healing and no rule that determines when sadness should end. No one should tell another person how to grieve or when to move on.
When we ask where our loved ones are, the answer is not always found in words; they are in our memories, in the ways they shaped us, and in the love that continues long after they are gone. I am still grieving my grandmother, and I have learned that this is not weakness. It is simply love, continuing. I will forever love and cherish the moments we shared together, Nwogu Florence (née Akwarandu).
As narrated by: Gift Ijeoma (Umuahia, Nigeria).
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