How does the loss of someone close affect people?

“I prefer to live like a lion in the jungle than to stay like a dog in the city.” - Sound Sultan.

I was sad to hear about the passing of the legendary Sound Sultan this morning. He was one of my favorite artists. I listened to him a lot when growing up and his “Jungle Story” play is one of my favorite theatre plays of all time.

I dedicate today’s letter to his memory. He lived a life of expression and was never scared to use his talent & platform to tell stories he believed. May his life be an inspiration to us all.

A jo o da bi ile (No place like home). Stay Jiggy always.

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My first memory of the death of someone close to me was around age 10/11. Mr FAGADE was husband to the headmistress of my primary school. My mum worked in the school and the family housed us for a few months after the Ife/Modakeke war drove us from our home and made us homeless for a short period.

He had white hair and I have good, though fuzzy, memories of him. I remember looking in his casket and not feeling much. I couldn't understand it and was more interested in the free puff-puff and snacks aplenty on that cloudy evening.

As the years went by, I was mostly shielded from the experience of losing someone really close to me. I lost a number of acquaintances, folks from the church community, a university classmate and more. In my experience though, you don't feel it as much until it comes close to home.

The first close person to me that I lost was Tosin Anifalaje who we lost in a car accident on his way to his NYSC posting in 2016. Tosin was a part of my group of friends from post-university life. For one year after I graduated from school, I lived with my brother and a couple of other friends in a house in Ife.

In our group of 10 friends, Tosin was the most eccentric of all. His humour, energy and cunning were unmatched. I was the last of our group to see him because he went to the park with my ATM card and I had to go meet him to get it back. When I heard about his passing, I cried for hours and miss him to this day.

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Despite how close Tosin was to me and other good people in my life that I've lost, coming to terms with death never came to me fully. I call it 'coming to terms with death' because as a society, we shelve all talks of death and there's a taboo that comes with discussing it. It almost feels as though we don't want to talk about it so it doesn't happen to us.

Everyone knows death is one of the few constant things in life. It will happen to all of us. I don't think we all live life with a full understanding of this though.

We're on this large planet. With close to 8 billion people. Hundreds of countries. Thousands of cultures. Millions of experiences.

Yet, we usually live very limited lives. And I'm not speaking from a standpoint of travelling and experiencing the world (people should def do this if they have the resources to do so). I'm speaking from the general standpoint of living life, going outside of the 'limitations' that society & our upbringing have placed on us, exploring our interests, being our true selves publicly, living a life of love and more.

It would be interesting to get data about how experiencing the loss of someone close changes people and their approach to life. I know that I for one will be included in that dataset if that research is ever done.

In the second week of October in 2020, my eldest brother decided on a whim that he was going to come to Lagos from Kebbi where he was based. He was around for one week. We played video games, went out and had fun as always. I remember putting his bag in the taxi as he left for the airport, hugging him and saying that we'll see in December for our usual end of the year turn up.

He passed on October 30 and left a hole in my heart. He was my big brother and had my back always especially in all the periods where I make bad decisions.

It was when I lost him that the deep feeling of losing someone finally hit me fully. It helped me put a lot of things into perspective. I became comfortable with the truth that death will happen to all of us.

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This might be a mental technique to reduce the hurt that'll come as I lose more people in my remaining years on earth. But it's also very useful. When you come to terms with the fact that our time here is limited, you begin to act like it more intentionally.

The loss helped me become more curious about our minute role in this factory called the human race which produces billions of people every century. People have lived before us and many more will come after us.

We can choose the role we want to play and contribute to an aspect of life that we align with. If we align with multiple aspects, we should explore as many of them as possible. We should be good to others regardless of their status and phase of life. Not only because it is a good thing to do but why should we do any different?

A question I ask myself nowadays is: If my life ended today, would I have lived the life I wanted to live?

Increasingly, the answer to this is nearing a yes. It is increasingly becoming my North Star and my daily muse: Am I living the life I want to live? Not from a materialistic standpoint but from an experience and fulfilment standpoint.

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I'm curious to know what the experience has been like for other people who have lost someone close. I know that losing someone often has different effects on people depending on the circumstances.

Some people lose parents and key people in their lives early on and this shapes their life. Some people lose their life partners earlier than they would have liked. Sometimes, the circumstances through which we lose people can hurt deeply, inflict trauma on us and change the course of lives.

It's so diverse and if you're open to sharing, I'll be happy to read your story. It's been less than a year since I lost Showki and its effect is still unravelling in my life.

What effect has losing someone close to you had on your life? Share with me in the comments section or as a response to this letter wherever you find it.

My prayers and thoughts are with the family of Sound Sultan and everybody out there living through the experience of losing someone close. Love and light to you all.

What did you think of this week's letter?

I love it! ◌ I Like It ◌ Not Bad ◌ I Don’t Like It ◌It’s Awful

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This letter was written while listening to a playlist of SoundSultan.

Love always.

Francis.