Daddy…do you remember me?

He’s dead.

In case you didn’t know, my tenderly beloved father, Beale Griffin died on the 22nd July 2021.

He died of pancreatic cancer.

His passing was the single most painful experience of my life and I pray to God I never have to watch another person slip away like that.

There was a song I used to sing and dance to when he was dying, its called “Everything, (amen) by Timi Dakolo.

The lyrics (googled) are as follows. Play it, it’s a happy song.

Everything you put your hand
(Go work)
Your name go open doors
(Amen)
You sef go be a boss
(Amen, amen, amen)
Everything you put your hand
(Go work)
Your Name go open doors (amen)
You sef go be a boss
(Amen, amen, amen)

Every hustler get im day (day, day)
Wey the hustle go come
Dey pay (pay, pay)
Your own e no go Ttey
(Amen, amen, amen)
If you dey find work
Do your own (oh, oh)
God sef go do hin own (oh, oh)
And flesh go cover bone
(Amen, amen, amen)

If you believe it say amen
(Amen)
If you believe it say amen
(Amen)
If you believe it say amen
(Amen, amen, amen)

Everything you put your hand
(Go work)
Your name go open doors
(Amen)
You sef go be a boss
(Amen, amen, amen)

Everything you put your hand
(Go work)
Your Name go open doors
(Amen)
You sef go be a boss
(Amen, amen, amen)

Sister wey want marry since
(Since, since)
Aunty wey dey find pikin
(Kin, kin)
One day you go born twins
(Amen, amen, amen)
Tenant wey don lose hin job
(Job, job)
Landlord come dey do like god
(God, god)
One day you go be landlord
(Amen, amen, amen)

Good news go locate you
(Amen)
Watch and see e no go tey
(Amen)
If you believe it say amen
(Amen, amen, amen)

Everything you put your hand
(Go work)
Your name go open doors
(Amen)
You sef go be a boss
(Amen, amen, amen)

Everything you put your hand
(Go work)
Your name go open doors
(Amen)
You sef go be a boss
(Amen, amen, amen)

Long life go follow you
(Amen)
Strangers go favor you
(Amen)
Great men go honor you
(Amen, amen, amen)

One day you go sign the cheque (amen)
You sef go drive that benz oh (amen)
This life go still make sense oh
(Amen, amen, amen)
Your children go make you proud (amen)
Bad people no go pull you down (amen)
One day you go run this town oh
(Amen, amen, amen)

You sef go spray me money (Amen)
Baby go call you honey (Amen)
You sef go host the party
(Amen, amen, amen)

Dangote go be your friend (Amen)
Otedola go be your friend (Amen)
Adenuga go be your guy
(Amen, amen, amen)
Elumelu go be your guy (Amen)
Abdulsamad go be my guy (Amen)
Rabiu go be my guy
(Amen, amen, amen)

Your life no go end in shame
(Amen)
Your business go bring you gain
(Amen)
If you believe it say Amen
(Amen, amen, amen)

Now read those lyrics again and hear in your head… “he’s dead” instead of “Amen”

This has been my reality for 4.5+ years.

Ask and it shall be granted unto you…

No one, living or dead has prayed harder for their father’s health to be restored to them than myself.

And I got nothing.

He died.

I was left fatherless. Like so many others.

I begged God. I have never asked for anything like I asked God for this.

Beale Griffin took a piece of me with him.

I didn’t even get to watch him being lowered into the ground. My final closure to say he was definitely dead… stollen from me by a cameraman who walked directly in front of me to get a better angle for those watching it on zoom.

My actual final closure was that I watched them put my fathers remains into a body bag.

They zipped the bag up over his face… That is how I knew he was dead.

You don’t zip a bag up over the face of the living, the living need their airways clear in order to breathe.

The dead do not.

So it has 4.5 years to be able to listen to that song, without hearing until at least halfway… “he’s dead”

I suppose that’s progress?

But no other song reminds me so fervently of my father’s passing. Not even the songs they played at his funeral. I have no idea what they are. I blocked out the memories.

Not even Sam Cooke, his favourite.

Not even “Frankie” by sister sledge, which was the last song he and I danced to. At my aunt’s 50th birthday, he was healthy back then. I was holding my cousin’s daughter, and I bet we both imagined a world where we’d dance to the same song, but this time I’d be holding my own daughter.

In that song I hear “Daddy,” instead of “Frankie” “do you remember me?”

I’m sure he’d never forget me.

But…

He’s dead.

I hope wherever he is, he is at peace.

And wherever he is, I hope he knows he is eternally loved. And missed.

Grace and Courage

Annetta Mother Smith.