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“Your love has given me great joy and encouragement, because you, brother, have refreshed the hearts of the Lord’s people.” – Philemon 1:7
Oh, my dearest Ayodele,
So much has happened in this first year of your absence, yet somehow, it still feels as though you just left. I miss you beyond words.
Too often, I find myself wanting to call you so we could Gsss, talk through some things, ask you for a favor, bounce ideas around, or simply hear your voice. I am so grateful for those old voice messages. Thank God for them. When the days become especially difficult, I listen to them just to hear your voice again. For a moment, it feels like you are still here.
I still have not fully accepted your transition. It feels unreal and unnatural to me. There are moments when I expect the phone to ring, or I catch myself thinking, I need to call Ayodele. And then reality settles in again.
Thank you for visiting me often and reminding me, in your voice, that “it is well”. I believe you. I thank Jehovah for the gift of our final months together. He knew I needed you just as much as you needed me. Looking back, I understand even more what those moments meant.
This road of grief is so difficult to endure, especially because the love, kindness, and selflessness you showed so many of us are not things we encounter every day. You loved people intentionally. You showed up. You gave freely. You filled gaps we didn’t even know existed. You were the epitome of “family first,” always, and in all ways. Thank you, Ayodele.
I pray that Jehovah will continue to guide me and show me the way as I carry your legacy forward. For your children, and the generations that come after them, may they know who you were, not simply through stories of your absence, but through the love, sacrifices, kindness, wisdom, and memories you left behind.
You, my dear brother, will always matter to me and my children.
Until we meet again, rest well.
We love you, and we miss you dearly.
Rochelle and the children.
They say the first year is the hardest, and I can honestly say it has been one of the hardest years of my life. But Dad… I made it through. I made it through the birthdays, holidays, special moments, memories, and all the days I wished more than anything that you were still here.
I miss you more than words could ever express. I miss your voice, your laughter, your presence, and simply knowing you were here. There have been so many moments when I wanted to pick up the phone, hear your voice, or tell you about my life.
This year has taught me that grief doesn’t disappear with time. We simply learn to carry the love and the loss together. I carry you with me every day, in my heart, my memories, the lessons you taught me, and the person you helped me become.
There were days I didn’t know how I would get through, but somehow, I did, one day at a time. And I know I made it because your love continues to live within me.
I wish you could see me now. I wish I could tell you how much I love you, how grateful I am for you, and how much your daughter still needs her dad.
Though I can’t see you, your love will always be a part of me. I’ll continue to make you proud, keep your memory alive, and speak your name with love.
Forever your daughter. Forever your baby girl. I love you always. 🤍🕊️
Chante Romell Moore
