A letter to my friend, FM. (Last part)

"Oshey my dear"

"Pele my dear"

"How are you my dear"

Those are usually how you refer to me. Can I confess? They make me feel very very special. 

Since your death, I have been confused about what name you call me. It is funny how I have never heard you call either Bukunmi or Smartic. You would rather walk up to me and tap my shoulder or regardless of how little the distance, you would dial my number and tell me to look over my shoulder. Maybe you thought it is uncool to shout people's names 😒

However, every of our chat history has you calling me "my dear." You didn't say them as words alone. Somehow, you've shown me that I am dear to you.

You've never taken my requests for granted. I will briefly go over the ones that stood out for me.

My tech guy, over time, I have built total confidence in you to settle all my tech-related troubles. Any slight issues, I have called you for solutions. Even when you don't know what should be done, you would still promise to enquire for me. Thereafter you would use your airtime to give me a call and put me through. 

I remembered when I wanted to buy an AirPod last month. I called you to decide the best one to purchase because I had no idea about it. You were kind enough to start negotiating with the Ibo seller on my behalf via phone call. Then you just told me that I should not pay more than a certain amount of money at most. Who knows if I might have been cheated?

Also, all those times you will follow me to the female hostel on a sunny afternoon after stressful classes to check my laptop for me. The times you would want to install software for me because I don't seem to find my way. As always, they always turned out to be empty discs. You would say, "My dear, won ti gba e!" (My dear they have swindled you!) 😂

Two weeks before your death, I dragged you into a matter that wasn't your business. My roommate's laptop wasn't responding at all. I placed you on call to be settling malfunctions that were not your business. Then I made you bring a Microsoft disc from your house to install for her. 

Sadly, I never got a chance to return the disc at all. I would see you in class every morning and apologise for forgetting it in the hostel. Seyi would stop, place his hand on my shoulder and say "Girl yi farabale, mi o salo" (This girl calm down, I am not running away)

Now, how can you say you are not running away and two weeks later I was watching some men heaping sand on your coffin. How!!?? Now I am stuck with a disc that it's not mine, brooding over how to get it back into your possessions. 

As I said when I started this letter; you have lived and preached peace all your life. Surprisingly, you preached peace till death. When that man opened your coffin, my spirit saw a man that was resting comfortably in the lord. On our way back to school that day, everyone in the car was singing praises to God and shouting happily. To a mere man, it is wickedness to be laughing while coming back from the burial of a colleague. But this was different, an unexplainable peace fueled the praises from within. 

Finally, my friend, there are enormous memories I can recollect in a space of our three years of friendship. However, I will not be able to write them all in white and black. Many of them will be written in my heart for a very long time.

These are letters from your "my dear" to you.

This is me saying; Goodbye my realest gee💕.

We gats meet again - in heaven.

Sleep on in God's bosom.

Rest in peace 💕 

P.s to readers:

This is the last letter in a four-series of letters.

Be kind enough to drop a few comments probably about the letter or on what you know about the addressee (Seyiphats).

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Thank you for reading this far.

Oluwabukunmi. ❤️

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