TRIBUTE TO AN AMAZING FATHER

A month ago, the funeral service for my dear dad was held. I shared a heartfelt tribute in the program brochure, but even though it was three pages long, it was more of an abridged version—an attempt to put into words how incredible my dad was. I tried to reflect on memories from over three decades, but of course, words cannot fully capture every moment we shared.Still, I wanted to honour him the best way I could with words.

In this post, I want to express freely all I truly meant to say about my amazing dad, the man I owe every success I have achieved.

While most people will readily describe my dad as a kind and gentle man, for me, what often comes to mind is a father who never wanted his children to be inconvenienced. I remember one time I had sent him an amount from my performance bonus and inputted in the narration “to the best dad in the world”. The next morning, he asked me what the amount was for with a puzzled look on his face. I could see the concern on his face, wondering if I had stretched myself to send it to him. He appreciated the gestures nonetheless, but he was concerned that I might need it more than himself, especially as it was never his style to ask us for anything. He held his role of provider strongly even till our adulthood. At times, I’d have to force him to accept whatever token I had sent him. That was who he was, never wanting anyone, especially his children, to be inconvenienced.

***

Daddy, you were beyond amazing. As painful as your passing is, it has also opened my eyes even more to just how great a father you truly were — how much lighter you made our lives. Not just for us, your immediate and extended family, but even for strangers who were touched by your kindness.

People often speak of your kindness and compassion — and while they’re right, I know they only saw a glimpse of it. I was blessed to witness the full measure of your heart. I grew up watching you extend love, support, and generosity not just to us, but to extended family, friends, and even strangers. They say children learn from watching the actions of their parents. This holds so true in my life, and I readily tell people that I learned kindness from you. Yours was a life of service to humanity and leaving the world a better place than you met it.

Two things mattered dearly to you, your faith and a good name. You always admonished us that having a good name was far better than riches. You lived this in every sense of the world. You are the most honest man I have ever encountered, one who cared deeply and honestly about the welfare of others. You were a shining light in a world blinded by greed and self-centeredness. You showed compassion effortlessly, and I remember the conversation I had with you about creating boundaries to avoid people taking advantage of your kindness. Your response has stayed burning in my heart and will forever be my guiding light. You said to me that day, “I cannot have and watch my blood suffer”. I held so much respect for you that day and understood that what people might term as ‘not being a sharp guy’ was you exhibiting the purest form of the love of Christ.

Your calm disposition, no matter the situation, remains a wonder to me. Watching you extend kindness to artisans and see you forgive those who were not honest in their dealings has taught me so much about forgiveness. I may not be as calm as you were, but these days I find myself measuring my reactions to situations against your legacy of gentleness. I wonder if I’ll ever meet anyone who embodies fully the fruit of the Spirit as you did: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control (Galatians 5:22-23).

I could go on and on about how amazing you were, and the memories will keep pouring, especially in times of my stubbornness and mischief (I was the daring child).

Notable mischievous acts include in –

• Primary school – when your car developed a fault on the last day of school (used to be my favourite school day), and you decided we were all going to stay home while you took public transportation to work. I think I was in primary 4 (1999), and was already self-willed and determined, so I stubbornly walked to school, which was a very long distance away from home.
• Secondary school – In 2004, while in SSS 2, I signed up for an interstate excursion using my savings (you taught me to start saving when I was in primary 2). You and Mummy searched for me that night till a neighbour asked if you guys were not aware the class went for an excursion.
• University – After field practical training in 2009, I told you there was no need for you to come pick me up from the station as I would find my way home, but I had other plans. I came home, picked up your other car and drove to the other side of town to get my things and drove into the compound to you watching me in amazement, all just to prove to you I was capable of driving alone. It worked, because from that day I was allowed to drive off alone at will.
• Just after defending my Undergraduate project – I took a trip to Lagos (my first solo trip across states in 2011) without informing anyone because you had not bought the idea. That night, when I didn’t come home, you called, and I told you I was in Lagos. The silence on the other end of the line was loud but familiar. I think at this stage, you were already used to my determination and boldness. You gently asked when I was coming back, and on that day, you asked my elder sister to prepare a meal for me. It felt reminiscent of the parable of the prodigal son in the bible.

The amazing thing is that in all these my mischief, I always came back home to meet you very calm and welcoming. Every time I erred, you treated each act of rebellion with so much kindness. You never condemned me, as you would always say God gave us our mouths to bless and not to curse. Behaviours that would have earned me severe punishment or beatings from a typical Nigerian father were mostly met with kindness and calm admonishment from you. You led by example, showing patience, forgiveness, and understanding in a way that spoke louder than any punishment ever could.

Daddy, how did you do it really? Thinking back now leaves me amazed at how much of a calm person you were. You raised me with so much kindness and corrected me in love, and I still turned out alright. You led with kindness and always made us know there is always love at home, unconditional love. I am thankful for the way you raised me, as it did not kill my spirit but guided me into being bold, resilient and determined. These attributes have so far served me well in adulthood through my career journey. I am who I am today because of your guidance and love. You and my mum complemented each other in raising us.

This is not just me saying nice things about you; there are so many witnesses to these rare qualities you were an epitome of. In my career in banking, I was privileged to associate with a lot of civil servants who worked with you through your years in the civil service. Each time anyone heard my surname and realised I was your son, they always spoke highly of you, and several persons described you as the calmest man in the Edo state civil service. Several of your colleagues told me of how you showed them kindness and helped them. I was always so proud to be your son.

From childhood to adulthood, you never stopped caring or pushing to make sure your children were comfortable and not going through any form of inconvenience. You were always ready to drive across town to pick me up from the park or airport, always ready to meet me in town when I had car troubles or if I called to say I was not feeling well. Most times, I had to reassure you that I would be able to sort myself out, that you did not need to go through the stress. I was always your boy, and you were fully involved in every detail of my life. You gave your time so selflessly, ensuring that all your children had a good education and lacked nothing essential. You put your own needs on hold, not going for the flashy cars or properties, but prioritising our education and the welfare of not just our immediate family, but everyone you came in contact with.

You were fully invested in our education. You were always quick to give us money to buy one book or another while we were still in our formative years. Regarding other non-educational activities, you’ll say you didn’t have money, but you never hesitated once it was the next textbook. You were not so keen on getting us toys, maybe because you realised my curiosity was too much and could pose a hazard, as I had, in a bid to simulate a real-life exhaust pipe, set fire to my blue truck right there in the kitchen.

As we grew into teenagers, you always talked about us being computer literate. You got us a desktop system as early as 2005 and ensured that every one of us attended a computer school once we were done with secondary school. Your interest in our development cannot be paralleled. You never hesitated in getting us laptops or whatever gadget would ensure we were up-to-date technology wise. I was one of the first in my university class to own a brand-new laptop in 2007. And then, you gave me money to buy one of the most expensive phones available in 2009, a phone I feared taking out of the house for a month. Daddy, you saw my love for technology, and you supported me and always reminded me it was for educational purposes to ensure I was able to compete with talents out there and positioned to excel in my career roles. You were already so focused on tech being a game changer way before the world caught on.

Your love, provision and care made my friends call me daddy’s boy from my university days, even till my career days in Access Bank. The love you showed, which in my little world of privilege seemed like the regular expectations of any father, made it look all so easy and regular. But now, looking back and with what I have learned about the world from life experiences and interactions with peers, you were way above the highest standards of fatherhood. You put the developmental needs of your children first, choosing to forgo personal luxuries to ensure your children had quality education and were set for their career paths. What more love could you have given Daddy?

You supported us all the way, even till adulthood. You allowed me to utilise your car throughout my career. Even upon your retirement, when I was ready to release it back to you and purchase mine (being that you had returned your official vehicle), you refused and bought a new one. You got blessed with another official car when your new appointment came, but still, you even allowed me to alternate the new personal car you had gotten with the previous one I was already using. You were highly accessible and never allowed your children to feel afraid of you, calmly admonishing and asking questions to know what was going on with us.

My colleagues at work were always intrigued by how mindful you remained toward me, even in my adult years. There is no talking about my career without referencing your valuable inputs. I remember the exercise at the start of my job in Access Bank, where you provided the resources I needed to meet the target while my peers were running around to complete their tasks from various sources. That was you, always wanting to create ease for your children. You found the balance between pampering us and creating a platform for us to succeed. You gave much more than the average father did, but it was not lost on you to ensure we were not spoiled or think that life was easy or rosy. You constantly reminded us of the need to work hard for things and put in effort. Growing up, you encouraged us to be our own person, hammering on the need of having a strong will and not being easily influenced by friends.

You remained invested in my career and education even till the very end. You kept asking how my postgraduate studies were going. Even on your hospital bed, you watched my graduation and called to tell me congratulations. You had asked prior to my travelling for my master’s degree to read the admission document, as you needed to be sure it was a good fit for me, just as you read every job offer letter I got. To date, I am still amazed at the lengths you went to for your children. While applying for my visa, I remember complaining to you how meeting some requirements was a bit challenging, especially as I did not have a landed property. You asked who told me I didn’t have one. I was confused and watched you go into the house, wondering what was going on. You came back shortly afterwards and handed me a land document which you had since bought in my name. Each time I was in a difficult situation, you were always there waiting with a solution or words of encouragement to see me through it.

You never forced any of your children into career paths; you supported us in our decisions and provided us with all we needed to succeed. That was why I always told you about every promotion, salary increase and performance bonus. It was my way of letting you know that your efforts in my education were not a waste. Times I contemplated resigning due to the stress of work, or dropping out of my PGD program, you were there to encourage and remind me that no good thing ever came easy. I remember when I moved to a new organisation and I was struggling to settle in, you called me one morning and said to me, always remember the meaning of your name, Iyosayi – I believe in God. That was who you were, a man of immense faith and trust in God, who devoted his life and resources to furthering the gospel and supporting the work of the church. Every life milestone I crossed, I carried you along, and I prayed for you each time because I would never have made it without you standing by my side in the several ways you did.

I remember when I had started my career in Lagos, and needed to come back home to Benin, you were ready to book a flight to come pick me up and get on another flight with me back to Benin. Thank you Daddy! You provided all I needed, you sheltered and protected me, you showed me you were ready to cross seas and oceans to bring me to rescue. You were indeed a father fully dedicated to each of his children.

Growing up, I watched you go to work in the mornings in your suits, looking smart. At that age, I did not fancy wearing suits to church, even when Mummy tried to make me, but still I admired watching you go to work all suited up with your ties and tie clips complementing your immaculate looks. It was always a silent desire to grow up and dress smart in a suit just like you. You were and will always be my hero in so many ways. I am grateful this dream came to pass, and you watched me grow in my career. It was one of my proudest moments being in the same meeting room with you when my then organisation was one of those called to meet with your office. You were seated at the other end of the boardroom, and I was at the other end, both of us in our suits. I could not have been any prouder to have been your son that day.

You were a giver by nature, and the land episodes make so much sense now, as after your passing, one of your long-time drivers who used to take us to school when we were kids, narrated how you gifted him the land on which he built his family house. Like I said, others only saw a fraction of your kindness and compassion. We, your immediate family, were enveloped and shielded daily by it. It’s easy to overlook things while they are happening in real time; only in hindsight do we see the true value of things. Writing this tribute has made me reflect on so many moments with you, and while I always knew you were my rock and full of kindness and compassion, this tribute has made me see just how much more of that you were. We were so lucky to have had the privilege of having you as a father, and you have set the standard of what fatherhood should be.

Daddy, I am grateful for the life you lived, for the compassion you showed everyone. People are telling tales of your goodness and love, and it makes me proud and my heart glad that I was privileged to have you as a father. I have no regrets. I am grateful that I never held back in showing my appreciation, especially after your retirement. I remember when you were saying I did not have to do so much, I said to you I would and that it was a sacrifice. I hope you felt proud that your legacy lives on through your son. I know you were not much of an expressive person when it came to words, but I could tell you were fulfilled. I know you were proud of me, I know you were happy, and my career progress was a reward for your efforts.

People complain about ‘black tax’ as an obligation, but for me, it was a privilege. It was my own little way of saying thank you and appreciating you for your kindness, unmeasured love and the sense of safety you gave me. I know you are resting easy knowing that I will always take care of my mum and siblings. That the love and compassion you had also runs in my blood, and being there for my family is a top priority. I am glad you lived to witness this, so rest well with the lord Daddy. The love you sewed in me will take good care of everyone you have left behind. Your legacy of faith and compassion will be carried forward, and our home will forever be blessed. Thank you for everything, Daddy. You and Mummy made me who I am today, and I am forever blessed to be your son.

***

I have written this tribute with mixed emotions – sadness, gratitude, and I found myself smiling as I recalled moments with you. I see it all clearly now, just how deeply you loved me, my siblings, and your constant devotion to Mummy and the family as a whole.

You were not just a good father — you were also a good husband. Always supportive, always helping, always taking so much off Mummy’s shoulders without ever making it about yourself. Hearing her cry as she wrote her tribute and hearing her say again and again how much she will miss you broke my heart. But I understood. I truly did. You were extraordinary. Men like you are rare. And we were so blessed to call you ours.

I will always be in awe of how patient and calm you were – constantly shielding us, supporting us, and carrying the weight of our family with such gentle love. You taught us so much… but you did not teach us how to live without you.

We love you Daddy, and we’re grateful — so deeply grateful — to have known what it means to have an extraordinary, present father. I am proud beyond words to be your child, and I am grateful beyond measure for the life you lived and the example you set. Everything I am and every success I achieve carries the imprint of your unwavering love, lessons, sacrifices, and faith.  Your faith, love, and support followed me every step of my journey, and they continue to guide me now. Daddy, your love, wisdom, and sacrifices are woven into every part of who I am today. Your faith, your compassion, and your unwavering commitment to your family and values are gifts that will stay with me forever.

It’s hard to say goodbye. All of this is heavy and difficult to comprehend, so I accept and surrender to God’s will, taking solace in the good life you lived—a true God-fearing man who loved God deeply and taught me never to question God. While it might seem overwhelming to think of a life without you physically here with us, I am comforted yet again by your teachings. Your legacy of faith, kindness and compassion lives on. For we mourn not as those who have no hope (1 Thessalonians 4:13).

Thank you Dad for being the amazing father you were. I love you with all my heart, today and always. You will forever be my hero, and I miss hearing your voice.