As the saying goes, "...this life no balance." How does one begin? Where does one start to put into words everything, every feeling that one goes through at a time like this? I guess one would have to start from the beginning.

A month longer, you were supposed to have been back in Canada. I was getting happy at the prospect of resuming our Sunday visits. These Sunday visits were always a chance for me to connect more with you. Believe it or not, it was a chance for us to catch up on our journeys through the week, a chance to discuss the happenings in our lives and those of your grandchildren. A chance for us to talk about the future and, at the very least, a chance to just sit down and be in each other's company.

Sadly, on March 31, these Sundays became no more. God had other plans for you. That is the only way I can comprehend why it is that you left us that day. On that day, a great void was created, a void so great I do not think it can be filled again. Many people speak about how kind you were, how generous, thoughtful, resilient, and caring you were. Only a select few have been fortunate enough to see that in you firsthand, to see the person who is so loved by many, held to a higher standard than many, impacting so many lives, and leaving behind such a great legacy that we can only hope to continue.

You were all of this to so many, and yet Daddy, you were also my father. Right up until the last time we spoke, you always put my needs before your own, the well-being of Kenechukwu and Chukwudozie before your own. I always saw, by the look in your eyes, that you carried the burden of others, and you carried it well. You have instilled in me the virtues of hard work, love, thoughtfulness, and most importantly, patience. You have been a beacon of light to others, a source of hope to many, and a shining example to me. Now, God says it's time for you to rest.

I hope I can continue to make you proud, that I instill in my children, as well as others, what you have taught me over the years. Daddy, there's no one else for me to talk to, no one else who knows and understands me like only a father would. I love you, Daddy. I miss you. As you look down from heaven, please watch over us and help us walk in the giant footsteps you have left behind for us to fill.

Your son,

Nnamdi