A Daughter’s Tribute – 30 Years Without You, Mum
~~ Aisha Nnasule Ndayako
Writing this piece is one of the most emotionally challenging tasks I have ever faced. I was only a few months old when my beloved mother left this world. For the longest time I believed my aunty was my mum—she raised me as her own, and I will forever be grateful. When the truth emerged, it was a painful awakening: I was caught between denial and discovery, between memory and mystery.
With tears in my eyes, I write these words. I have been told I am a miracle child—a living testament to the mercy and power of the Almighty. I was in the car with my mum, my elder brother, a cousin, two family friends, and the driver when tragedy struck. It was a fatal crash. I survived with only a small scratch on my face. My mum and the driver did not make it.
Over the years, family and well‑wishers have kept her memory alive through stories—stories of a kind, generous woman who always put others first. They say she lived with a rare grace, as if she knew her time here was brief, and she made every moment count. She bore life’s challenges with quiet strength, a smile on her face, and the dignity of a faithful woman—the kind you read about in the annals of history.
I have lost count of how many people, upon learning that I am her daughter, burst into tears—unable to contain the emotion her memory still evokes. That alone speaks volumes. She touched hearts. She left a legacy. She filled a space that, to this day, remains impossible to fill.
They called her an angel in human form. I believe them.
Though death took her from this world, I believe it merely opened the gate to eternity. I live with the hope and conviction that we will meet again. When that day comes, I will run into her arms and whisper, Mum, I missed you so much. I tried to live a life of legacy and meaning, to walk in your footsteps, to honour your name.
Until then, I promise to keep striving—to be the best version of myself every single day, to be worthy of being called your daughter.
However, after thirty years you left us, the absence remains a familiar ache. Five of us, your children – your sons Mohammed, Ahmed, and Mansur, and your daughters Zainab and I, Aisha – carry the enduring bond you created, a testament to your love. The memories are a blend of fondness and a lingering sense of incompleteness, a void time hasn't fully filled, yet we are grateful.
For your sons, the memories hold a distinct ache, while for your daughters, the absence is felt in its own unique way. Life has moved on, and we have forged our own paths and families, but a shared understanding of that early loss persists, a quiet sadness woven into the fabric of our lives, a constant reminder of the love and support you provided, and the love of your family and friends you left behind. We are eternally grateful for all the kindness and love shown to us. The echoes of your absence are less sharp now, but still resonate in the spaces between our lives.
May the All‑Merciful raise you to the highest ranks of Paradise. May your memory continue to shine light on all of us. Ameen.
Till we meet again mummy ...
Yours Daughter Aisha Nnasule Ndayako
Comments
Post a Comment