25/11/2025
When you love someone deeply and you know you are going… the world becomes heavier than your own breath. Every face, every memory, every voice you once lived for becomes a weight you still try to carry, even when your strength is fading.
I was the only son among ten sisters. People say it’s a blessing, but sometimes it feels like a quiet fire burning inside you. The expectations, the pressure, the silent battles… they come with no guide. As a brother, you try to be strong; as a son, you try to be enough. But even strength has limits.
My sisters, even if you didn’t always meet my expectations, even if life took you in directions I didn’t hope for, I never stopped loving you. Love is not measured by perfection but by blood, by our father’s sweat, our struggles, our name.
Respect Dad. Whatever happens, respect him.
He is now on the retrenchment list—a man who has carried us faithfully for decades. I always thought he would go before me. That’s how life usually is. But sometimes the order breaks, and the son begins to fade first.
Young people everywhere are facing accidents, pain, adversities. But for me, it wasn’t an accident. It was three silent months—three months of being neglected, three months of battles no one saw. And now it has grown too quiet. Too heavy. And I must go.
I tried to walk Dad’s path. I tried to become the journalist he raised me to be. I fought to pay my DWU fees, fought to finish what he dreamed for me. But I stumbled. I fell behind. There was no one before me, no brother to shield me. The weight was mine alone, and it finally overtook me.
So if I go before my time, hear this:
One of you must rise. One of you must carry the pen. One of you must continue Dad’s legacy and our family story.
To my sisters: I loved you all fiercely. I tried to cover your struggles, your gaps, your pains. But my shoulders were not wide enough, and my strength wasn’t endless.
Remember this:
Love each other.
Stand together.
Respect Dad.
And walk forward carrying