For Onyinyechukwu: The Wind That Carries Me Now

I have tried to find the right words not to make sense of your absence, Onyinyechukwu because some things are beyond sense

but to carry the weight of your memory with grace.

You weren’t just my sister. You were my friend. My gentle protector. My mirror. The one who saw past the strong façade I showed the world and loved me in my most fractured state. It’s strange, isn't it, how the younger ones sometimes become our keepers. You were that for me. A keeper of my secrets. A keeper of my heart.

I admired you deeply & wholly for your courage. You chose yourself in a world that shamed women for leaving, that made sacrifice synonymous with suffering. You walked out of an abusive marriage, not just for you but for your daughter. You dreamed of freedom. Of safety. Of raising her with love, laughter and dignity. But the road betrayed you. A fatal accident… and just like that, the plans we made became memories I now hold like shards.

What breaks me more is the timing. You left barely a week after I almost did. I had reached my own edge, consumed by pain, doubt and darkness. I didn’t think I mattered. But you did. You always reminded me that I mattered. And just when I was crawling my way back to light, life stole you. It felt like the universe was mocking my effort to live. For days, I blamed myself. If I had been stronger. If I had called more. If I had prayed harder. If, if, if…

But your life, short as it was, still sings. It still teaches. And now, I draw strength not just from your memory but from the essence of how you lived: boldly, truthfully, even when it hurt. You mothered with tenderness. You fought for joy. You still believed in beauty despite what tried to break you.

Now I look at your daughter and I see you in her eyes, in her laughter, in her fire. She will know who you were. Not just from stories but from how I live now. Because every time I rise, it’s because you once carried me. And I will not let your story end in sorrow.

We had plans. We schemed. We laughed. And though death came too soon, the bond we shared did not die with your body. It moves through me like wind invisible, but undeniable. It holds me when I want to fall. It whispers, live for us both.

So I will.

For you, Onyinyechukwu.

God’s gift.

My sister.

My compass.

My eternal friend.

May the heavens know they hold a warrior. And may the world never forget that you lived.