By BOLAJI TUNJI
Eighteen years have passed, yet the pain of that night remains as fresh in my heart as though it happened yesterday.
Today, I remember my dear friend and brother, Abayomi Ogundeji, who was unexpectedly taken from us by gunmen on August 17, 2008.
Abayomi and I were not just friends. We were sons Ogbomoso , bound by the shared memories, experiences and relationships that come from growing up with a common heritage. He was a good friend, a dependable companion and someone whose presence brought warmth and meaning to the lives of those around him.
What makes his death particularly painful for me is the memory of that very night. We were together. We spent time together, talked and shared the ordinary moments that friends take for granted. Then we parted. It was the last time I would ever see him alive.
None of us knew that when we said goodbye that night, it was going to be forever.
Hours later, the terrible news came. Abayomi had been killed.
There are some deaths that the passage of time cannot completely heal because they leave behind questions that can never be answered and memories that can never be erased. Abayomi’s death is one of them. I have often thought about that last moment we were together and wondered what I would have said or done differently if I had known it was our final goodbye. Maybe, I would have told him to tarry awhile before he left Fatai Atere Way.
Eighteen years later, I still remember him—not for the manner in which his life was violently taken, but for the life he lived, the friendship he gave and the memories he left behind.
Abayomi should have had many more years ahead of him. He should have witnessed more seasons, celebrated more milestones, enjoyed more friendships and watched his dreams unfold, his two young boys growing up. But fate, in its cruelest form, cut his journey short.
Yet, they say a man does not truly die when his memory continues to live in the hearts of those who knew and loved him.
Abayomi lives in my memories. He lives in the memories of our friends. He lives in the memories of his siblings, he lives in the memories of his children and in the hearts of those who knew the good man he was.
Abayomi, eighteen years have gone by, but I have not forgotten you. I doubt I ever will. Time, it is said erazes old wounds, your death remains poignant in my memory.
I still remember that night. I still remember our time together. And I still remember the painful realisation that the friend I had just parted from would never return. Had I known, wouldn’t i have told him to tarry awhile.
If only we had known that it was goodbye.
Today, rather than mourn the tragedy of your death, I choose to celebrate the privilege of having known you and having called you my friend.
May God continue to grant eternal rest to your gentle soul, and may He comfort everyone whose life was touched by your presence.
Rest peacefully, my dear friend.
Eighteen years on, you are gone from our sight, but never from our hearts.
Until we meet again, Abayomi.
May your soul continue to rest in perfect peace.
