In Loving Memory
Posted by Memoirs Of A Yoruba Girl
thanks for dropping by today. It’s been a while, I know I know, 😦
No matter how far I go, or how busy I am, memoirsofayorubaagirl always tugs on my heartstrings so here I am, typing this post , at last. This post is soo overdue, its actually serious. This was due on here over 3 months ago, I’ve nursed this on my mind since then
Hope this blog post meets you well (feel free to reply), I’m back at uni! Final year! After a nice long/short year at the town of Northampton. I am quickly getting familiar with the work mode and the library.
So on to the post, this blog post came to my mind a couple of months ago, when I went along with my younger sister to pick up her GCSE results (nerves). Long story short, she did very very well, I won’t tell you what she got, (ask her yourself when you see her). So on the way back, during the course of conversation, I remembered a lady very dear to my heart who I would have loved to share in the joy of the day. Needless to say, the memories had me and my sister walking the streets of London with tear stained faces, 😦
I decided to share my memory of an extraordinary woman, that I was privileged to know for several years. What better place to share the memory than on my memoirs, ;-). So starting the story right from the beginning, rewind to about year 8 (I think). So secondary school is nice and all, but I’m struggling with mathematics #groans. I can’t remember how I told my mum I was struggling but the decision was to get me a private tutor. I didnt have a problem with the tutor part, it was the reviews I had heard about this tutor that gave me a little cause for concern.
First day of lessons, I went with my mum. We met an older but very elegant mixed heritage woman. I was intrigued but scared. Funny enough after a few lessons, I told her how scared I was of her before I had met her, and she dissipated any other fears I had. This woman was an educator, I knew it the first time I met her. She was an educator and was extremely good at what she did. Needless to say, the mathematics I once loathed became a subject I came to love and excel at. My younger sister was also privileged to sit under her tuition.
I feel so privileged and blessed to have been a student of this amazing woman whose teaching career had spanned several years in Nigeria previously. As many who have lost a loved would say, it doesnt seem real. Whenever I do pass by her home, I still feel as though shes still there, at her study table, surrounded by books, under the study light.
This is where things get sweet, because its not really the end. Though she is no longer here, she is with the Lord. And one day, we are going to meet again! In a place where GCSE mathematics will have no meaning, (doesn’t have that much now to be honest) , a place where we will meet to never part! This place is called……….HEAVEN! I believe she is already there, I pray the grace of the Lord will sustain me, so I will there, I hope and pray I’ll see you there too, will you be?
Until next time