Dear Nana Adwoa,
It’s 7:45 am on 2nd June, 2020 as I write you this letter. I probably waited this long with the hope that someone would tell me that the news of your demise was fake. How is this even possible? On Saturday, I wished you a happy birthday and I posted you on my story. I received a link to join your online party but I failed to attend as it was not working for me. Nana, there is nothing I regret more than missing your party. I missed the opportunity to see your sunny, vibrant smile for the last time. The same smile that lit up the room and cheered up classmates.
Nana, you cared about me deeply and you always knew when something was wrong. You were my diary, my confidant and I trusted you with my greatest secrets. You knew all the likely candidates to be Mrs. Minkah and you advised me so effortlessly. Whenever I came to you with complaints or concerns, you would respond in your worried British accent, then quickly switch to your usual Ghanaian phrases and insults once you managed to cheer me up.
Words cannot begin to explain how talented you were. Your dominance on the court, on stage and in the classroom was undeniable. You were a master at basketball and hockey and even though I never got to admit it, I would probably have lost to you. You were such a brilliant student Nana, very inquisitive and academically gifted. I promise to continue your feud with Monsieur Abloso.
Theatre – your true talent! I will always remember you as the first student director to come from not only the Lower Secondary, but from Form 1. What a remarkable achievement! You played your role as Rizzo in this year’s play to perfection. Your professionalism was admirable. I loved doing that scene where I jumped at you but ultimately fell down. Your voice was angelic and maybe that is why God wants you up there with him. My mind is flooded with so many memories and it breaks my heart. I recall break times at the music room, even if we cut a little bit into Monsieur Abloso’s time, the hours we spent at the National Theatre rehearsing for the Prince of Egypt and the Merchant of Venice play and the time you gave me much needed advice on my footwork for a choreography. I remember how you supported me when I was running for SRC Vice–President. I could not have won without people like you in my corner.
Nothing can compare to the pain and emptiness I feel. It was almost as if I did not realize how much I depended on you until I could no longer depend on you. You were my bedrock and my motivation. It really hurts that I did not get the opportunity to say goodbye but I take consolation in the words of Dr. Seuss, “Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened.” It was an honour to have had you in my life. Rest in perfect peace.
“Period pooh”
Lots of love,
Minkah
Dear Nana Adwoa,
It’s 7:45 am on 2nd June, 2020 as I write you this letter. I probably waited this long with the hope that someone would tell me that the news of your demise was fake. How is this even possible? On Saturday, I wished you a happy birthday and I posted you on my story. I received a link to join your online party but I failed to attend as it was not working for me. Nana, there is nothing I regret more than missing your party. I missed the opportunity to see your sunny, vibrant smile for the last time. The same smile that lit up the room and cheered up classmates.
Nana, you cared about me deeply and you always knew when something was wrong. You were my diary, my confidant and I trusted you with my greatest secrets. You knew all the likely candidates to be Mrs. Minkah and you advised me so effortlessly. Whenever I came to you with complaints or concerns, you would respond in your worried British accent, then quickly switch to your usual Ghanaian phrases and insults once you managed to cheer me up.
Words cannot begin to explain how talented you were. Your dominance on the court, on stage and in the classroom was undeniable. You were a master at basketball and hockey and even though I never got to admit it, I would probably have lost to you. You were such a brilliant student Nana, very inquisitive and academically gifted. I promise to continue your feud with Monsieur Abloso.
Theatre – your true talent! I will always remember you as the first student director to come from not only the Lower Secondary, but from Form 1. What a remarkable achievement! You played your role as Rizzo in this year’s play to perfection. Your professionalism was admirable. I loved doing that scene where I jumped at you but ultimately fell down. Your voice was angelic and maybe that is why God wants you up there with him. My mind is flooded with so many memories and it breaks my heart. I recall break times at the music room, even if we cut a little bit into Monsieur Abloso’s time, the hours we spent at the National Theatre rehearsing for the Prince of Egypt and the Merchant of Venice play and the time you gave me much needed advice on my footwork for a choreography. I remember how you supported me when I was running for SRC Vice–President. I could not have won without people like you in my corner.
Nothing can compare to the pain and emptiness I feel. It was almost as if I did not realize how much I depended on you until I could no longer depend on you. You were my bedrock and my motivation. It really hurts that I did not get the opportunity to say goodbye but I take consolation in the words of Dr. Seuss, “Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened.” It was an honour to have had you in my life. Rest in perfect peace.
“Period pooh”
Lots of love,
Minkah
