Give Your Loved Ones Their Flowers Now

Time is fleeting, and tomorrow is not guaranteed, so what we do today for a loved one may be the only thing that matters. I used to put off what could be done today until the unexpected happened and shattered my habit of taking things for granted. The realization of my expensive mistake has prompted me to write this article to divert others from stumbling upon the same lesson I learned in a very painful way.

The moment of my departure to America, the “land of milk and honey,” was at hand. Instead of basking in the joy of the occasion, my seventy-two-year-old paternal grandmother was wallowing in tears. I had never seen her cry so much. Unable to understand her sorrow, I put my arms around her frail neck and listened closely for an explanation.

Amidst choking sobs, she revealed to me that this would be the last time I would see her alive. “God forbid, Grandma, I will be back,” I responded. She cried even more, shook her head with regret, and said, “You will never see me again.” I stood there in disbelief until my father bailed me out of my confusion by reminding me that elderly people often become more emotional as they age. He assured me she was just being sentimental. With his words of encouragement, I left my grandmother to catch my flight to Atlanta, Georgia. This scene of my weeping grandmother, my observing father, and my confused self has haunted me to this day. Had I known, I could have made that day a very memorable one.

Three months after I arrived in America, I received a long-distance call from my mother. She informed me that my paternal grandmother had died in a plane crash on her way to another state for eye surgery. I was devastated and spooked that her prophecy of doom had come true. It hurt to know that my grandmother did not receive anything from my time in America before she died. The truth is, I was still in the process of settling down in a foreign land. I called to console my dad, her first and favorite son. He took the news like a typical African man, concealing his emotions in his broken heart.

Out of sight was not out of mind for my dad and me, even though we were continents apart. We fattened the accounts of the telephone companies with our frequent international calls. My father kept me informed of current happenings in Nigeria, and I always listened with eagerness. I’ll never forget the times I called and heard the pride in his voice as he instructed the nearest person, “Bring me that chair to sit on, my daughter in America is on the phone.”

During my next four years in America, my father visited Canada on three occasions. They were always brief visits with a promise to find the right opportunity to spend quality time with me in Atlanta, Georgia. I didn’t mind because my mother and siblings visited often. His third visit toward the end of my fourth year was particularly interesting. From the day he arrived in Toronto, Canada, we resumed our usual telephone conversations, and I also started buying gifts to send him. I always bought my father a bottle of cologne, but this time I wanted to buy him a variety of gifts.

I started with some shirts and a bottle of cologne, then decided to get a bigger box to send my darling father a box of goodies. One day, he called to inform me that his doctor had diagnosed a problem with his heart and that he needed to cut his trip short and head back home. Although I was taken aback, my father convinced me it was nothing serious by saying all he needed was the right diet and regular exercise. The next day, I mailed the box first class to Canada. He was scheduled to leave five days later. I was sure the box would get there in two days as promised. On the fourth day, the box had not arrived. I panicked and checked with the post office. They assured me he would get it the next day before noon. My dad’s flight was at two that afternoon. By noon, he was still waiting for the box. It did not come. He left for Nigeria without the products of my labor in America. I was so disappointed. A week later, the box came back to me, returned for no apparent reason.

At that moment, I decided to upgrade the box to a suitcase. I planned to start collecting gifts for my dad until everything fitted into the suitcase and then send it through someone traveling to Nigeria. I wanted him to receive a ton of gifts from me at once, rather than sending one item every other month.

My mom and dad in 1966.

As October drew near, my father’s excitement for his birthday party became almost unbearable. He made it a point to remind everyone about his forthcoming event. He started buying food, drinks, and giveaways for his party. Eventually, my siblings and I grew weary of our dad constantly talking about his birthday plans. The final straw that broke my brother’s patience happened during yet another reminder call from our dad. This time, they got into a minor argument, and my father said, “If you like, do not come to my party. Even if I die, you do not need to attend.” My brother was upset but understood that our dad was just anxious about his big day.

Luckily, I found a friend who was scheduled to travel to Nigeria a few days before his birthday, so I began trying to get as many things as possible into the “special suitcase.” The only thing left to buy was his special birthday gift, and I was torn between two options.

Two weeks before the big day, my dad woke up in the morning and sent for his best friend. They went to visit close friends. Later that afternoon, he came back home and said he was going to take a nap. By seven in the evening, when he hadn’t come out from this unusual nap, curiosity reigned in the minds of those in the house, and they decided to check on him. It was too late; he had slept on to eternity. My father, my friend, my hero had died!

I cannot begin to describe the tempestuous emotions of guilt and regret that engulfed me for the longest time. Thank God for where He has brought me from. I have gradually crawled out of the shell of grief that housed me after hearing the news of his untimely death. Had I known, I would have sent whatever I had on hand instead of piling up so-called treasures that ended up defeating my purpose.