Friday, 26th June, 2026; life has never felt this good.🥹

I saw my ‘nephrotic syndrome’ patient walk down the hallway past me, beaming with genuine smiles as all his generalised oedema had reduced. He approached and greeted me, stating he had gotten better since the last time he was clerked by me, and I was genuinely fulfilled.

We are midway through the year already. I am genuinely grateful for how my year has panned out, and equally surprised at the numerous plot twists that have happened throughout.

The depressed, worn-out version of me, a year or two ago , who had to cut her hair low because it was becoming too much of a burden to care for due to her unhappy state, and also scheduled therapy sessions every two weeks just to feel better, will probably be surprised at how far she has come mentally and emotionally, and how far ahead she is now.

It’s 8:00 am on Saturday, the 27th, and I am preparing for a women’s get-together and book launch event organised by Divayetty, my writing coach. I was beaming with excitement at how my perfectly planned Saturday would turn out.

“Struggle with all your might. Stomp and wash your blanket. Plow the field or even do odd jobs to earn some money. Tell yourself you won’t die and must survive, no matter what. Paddle your hands and legs like crazy. You will get through the dark waters. And see the sky. You will be able to breathe again. He’s taken everything she holds dear, yet he keeps giving her things as if to say, ‘I still won’t let you die.’ I am grateful for that little one. I am grateful she is carrying on. When it’s bright, it’s too bright. When it rains, it pours. Why does it have to be so harsh? If it were me, I’d go easy. Like the grass flattened by the typhoon, how can I move on from this? They fell down but got back up again. Grass and trees knocked down by the summer typhoon eventually rise again. Rain may pour as if it would sweep everything away. But once the sun starts blazing again, life rises again, no matter what. What if I can’t go on? I keep thinking I can’t go on. What, then? Give up? A canola flower never blooms alone. They bloom in a bunch. If I had been alone, I’d have been broken down countless times. I wondered how we could move forward. But life really did go on. Life went on and on. LIFE GOES ON AND ON.”- Episode 6, When life gives you tangerines.

Within the past few months, I tried launching a business but it didn’t move past the idea stage. I had made a few financial mistakes that set back my savings. I tried writing for an essay competition I was really interested in and wanted to enter, but I was entirely blank. I hadn’t been as consistent with my reading for school and it had started affecting me. I had left writing for a long time because it had begun to feel like a chore rather than something I genuinely enjoyed.

But in all of these, I have been consistent enough to finish Khaled Hosseini’s ‘The Kite Runner’ and Colleen Hoover’s ‘All Your Perfects’ I watched all the episodes of Prison Break, started the first season of Game of Thrones, tried to be consistent with my daily Quran, got into my Senate role for school that I had always wanted, went on as much dates as I possibly could with friends, made my first public appearance as a panelist speaker at an event I had always looked forward to attending, been actively intentional about myself and growth, and most importantly I found a friend who listens, is thoughtful, understanding and gentle. Conversations are easy and I feel seen, heard, respected and comfortable.

I have comfortably moved past my pessimistic phase solely because of my friend’s influence and had begun to be more grounded in my faith and to see things in the best form there is.

Sunday, 28th June, 2026. Life feels worth living again. 💃

I had just come back from the event and felt exhilarated. I sat in a room filled with the most beautiful women and had the most beautiful conversations. We ate a lot, danced, laughed, and were reminded to breathe through all of our struggles and navigate adulthood, friendships, career, finances, and womanhood as a whole; and find joy in them once again.

Find joy in missed trains, in minor inconveniences, in hope that things could possibly get better after a while if you hang in there long enough. In the total acceptance of one’s fate. ‘Amor Fati’- a welcoming of your experiences whether good or bad. Just trying to make the most of whatever hand you have been dealt and accepting that life was made to be testing. Being happy is finding joy in the straight path through the bumps and numerous contours. Your spark will return and you will shine like you were meant to. Trace back your steps, get back your voice, reignite your rhythm, and awaken your spirit again. Come alive again, while I hold your hands through this.

“Man is fond of counting his troubles, but he doesn’t count his joys. If he counted them up as he ought to, he’d see that every lot has enough happiness provided for it.” — Dostoevsky, Notes from Underground. The amount of good in your life definitely depends on your ability to notice it. Choose to remain positive even in the face of doubt.

If there is anything I hold dear from the numerous therapy sessions I have had, it will probably be to have flexibility in my thinking. You didn’t work out with your partner because they were no good for you. You failed an exam so you could find the loopholes and do better at the next try. Perhaps you lost a friend so you could undergo your very needed character development. Everything happens for the reason it was clearly written to, and God doesn’t burden a soul more than it can bear. (Quran 2:286)

In Chinua Achebe’s Things Fall Apart, when the eagle was asked why it was always flying instead of groping in its suffering, it simply stated: “If men have learnt to shoot without missing, then I must learn to fly without perching.” Sad birds still fly. Broken pencils still colour.

Find joy in the little things of life, the things that fill your cup. Living more means making joy a practice, not a reward. It could be very little but still very intentional. A solo date to the cinema. A long bath. A good playlist. Cooking, plating, and eating a beautiful meal. Enjoying the rain. Dancing in your room and screaming at the top of your lungs. Resting in the arms of your lover and just laying there. Being kind to others and relieving them of their burden.

I hate going to classes, but at least I apply my Kajal and lip liner to make myself feel better about it.

Joy is cheap and lives in the everyday things. It starts with presence; slowing down long enough to notice your life, and doing things deliberately. Because life is meant to be lived.

Because there will always be another hurdle to cross, another challenge to face, another bill to pay, another reason to wait, so if you don’t give yourself space to breathe in between, you notice that your life has gone past without you really living, while you were stuck in the middle of responsibility. You are allowed more than just survival. You are allowed to enjoy your life on purpose and make the most out of it. Think of challenges like they were placed just to shape you. I genuinely hope beautiful things happen to you, and when they do, I hope you realise you are worth every single one of them.

“Depression, my oldest friend, my greatest enemy. Here is the paintbrush you lent me. It’s been a journey knowing you. But my mother is waiting, and her hands are softer than yours anyway.”

Little Firi is happy and blooming again, and really, that’s all that matters to her. There’s a lot I am grateful for and there is much more I still hope for. And if you are like I was, enduring, managing, surviving, in neat exhausted silence, I am holding your hands as I say this. Life is so beautiful and there’s so much to live for, and we can only experience the beautiful parts we reminisce about if we live long enough through it to experience them. Do not deprive yourself of the fullness of your life.

Indeed, with every hardship comes ease. (Quran 94:6)

The sun will rise and we will shine again. 🌿☀️“It is in the face of what swears to break us, we must smile and dare to make it.”

And that’s the end, till I write to you again! 🥂

I have missed writing to you, have you missed hearing from me too ? It’s been a long time, how have you been? I hope you have been locking in with your goals. It’s half way through the year already. I hope you are smashing them. Take it one day at a time, okay? I am rooting for you, whole heartedly.

Do not forget to like, share and subscribe if this resonates well with you; perhaps you are helping a friend through a dark phase in their life too. Comment and write to me too on how you have been navigating life and whatever exciting thing has come up for you, I will be glad to read through them!

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Happy Men’s Mental Health Awareness Month. I hope you find steady hands to hold on to as you navigate through life. 💙I am looking for a job too o, plug me to remote content writing job with good pay and easy flexibility. 😭

With all the love in my heart, Firdawz. ❤️

Till I pen down my next words. 🥂✨

Love you, my online bestiesss.

I still cannot draw a perfect circle in a single try. No matter how hard I try and it has been like this for as long as I can remember. I know I am not alone in this and there are several others like me, people who struggle with the perfect circle, let alone an entire owl. This relates to almost everything we do. People who re-read, re-watch, re-do, recreate, rinse and repeat every single time before we even get the full picture, and really, it can be very much exhausting sometimes. 

I still think about my younger brother very often, how he completed his memorization of the entire Qur’an under 7 months finishing almost 6 pages per day towards his completion,  and I am in utter awe of him. It feels almost otherworldly. During the break from school, I had set a plan for myself too, to complete at least two pages every day to defend to my Arabic lesson teacher. I was only able to keep up with it for a week before it became exhausting, and I had to keep reducing from two pages to one, to none at all.

What was meant to feel soothing, comforting, and enjoyable quickly became exhausting , until I no longer showed up for it at all. Sometimes I wonder, do you ever get to feel that way too?

I am like that sometimes. My owl, just like yours, is like that sometimes, with uneven eyes, very crooked wings that don’t match, and circles that refuse to be drawn perfectly.

My writings from secondary school probably don’t even match up to half of this. Back in Primary 4 Grace, I could barely string together complete sentences when given composition assignments like “How I Spent My Holiday” or “My Best Friend” or “ My Favorite Food.”

It usually went something like this:

“My best friend is Taye.”

“She is a girl.”

“She comes from Oyo State.”

“Her best food is rice and beans.”

“Her best subject is mathematics.”

“I like my best friend because she is nice and kind to me.”

Short. Simple. Awkward. Imperfect, just like any of my owl drawings and even in those small, imperfect, uneven sentences, there was a beginning, a first attempt, a seed that grew into this. Something that brought you here, reading this now. Perhaps your beginnings are just as crooked as mine, but they are still a start. 

I read ‘Grit’ very recently, and the summary of it was that efforts count twice, or even the 17th, the 42nd, or the 68th. Grit is often a marathon, and while enthusiasm is common, endurance is the hard part to find

I didn’t know I was a slow learner until medical school. I have  to read a concept three times to fully grasp it (you can see how tiring that can be). I used to think I was a really bright student back in secondary school, since I almost didn’t have to study until two or three weeks before exams. But all those two weeks had been work from the very beginning, adding up unbeknownst to me.

It was the extra lessons I took on each subject after class every day, the after-school sessions, and even the times I explained concepts to a classmate who didn’t understand, all of that slowly stacked together that seemingly added up to it all and made me feel like I didn’t even have to put in any effort. 

Of course, there will always be outliers, people who get the same results as me for the entire session in two weeks, who can read and fully grasp hard concepts in one go, people who don’t need to follow a routine, people who get their perfect circles and perfect owls on the first try, people who don’t need to be extra disciplined, consistent, or cut out fun but they are not me and they might not be you either. They are few; and my, oh my, how I admire them. I would do anything to be like them too! And that’s the point of unfair advantages, isn’t it?

Perhaps you are not meant to get your perfect owl on the first try. Perhaps you need to exert yourself a little more than others to be equally successful. Perhaps you might get your circle right only on the 40th try. Your ‘eureka’ moment might just be one attempt more.

It’s even widely known that the inventor of the light bulb, the great Thomas Edison, failed 1,000 times before succeeding. Imagine if he gave up on the first, the 12th, or even the 569th attempt; we would probably still be in utter darkness today.

My beloved, don’t drop your stencil. Draw it again and again; even when the owl is bad, even when it is hard and boring, even when there’s no audience to prove it to yet. Someday, you will look back at that first owl, with its uneven wings, uncertain strokes, and imperfect circle, and you will be glad that you didn’t stop.

For every page you struggle with, every sentence you labor over, for every owl you draw crookedly, it all adds up, eventually and that’s the magic of growth, learning, creation and persistence. It would never come out perfect at first, you should never expect it to, but it would never come out at all if you don’t even try. 

Every flawed crack is part of the foundation you are soldering onto. You are given the permission to start poorly, to fail, to retry, and to grow until you get your perfect hundredth owl.

So draw the owl. Draw it again. And again. And again. You might not see it coming now, but if you stop, you never will.

I am rooting for you, and I hope you are rooting for yourself too. Just hang in there, okay?

Pay now and enjoy later. The cost of adulthood is doing. Life will always come with its demands, whether you are ready for it or not. Just try anyway. 

               Mura sise, ore mi. Ìṣe ló ń gbéni gíga.

  ( work hard my friend, effort is what elevates you)

The end. ✨

Firi’s corner:‼️

I wrote this because they released my hematology in-course last evening and this is my way of coping with it.😅 This was me when I literally saw the result.

-I still overthink my write ups from time to time, i don’t just care any longer so I am deciding to post anyway. 

-I received the most corny compliment at the beginning of the week and I still laugh think of how hilarious it sounds.😅🫶🏿

- Earlier this week, I read an article from a magazine at school that featured Timini Egbuson, my absolute fave and it has been what has been what has filled my cup all week. What a fine man! 

-A subtle reminder that we are still in the month of Ramadan. Make lots of duas. Include Palestine, Sudan and Nigeria in your prayers too. Pray for me as well. Pray that Allah grants me ease, answers all my duas and He comes through for me in ways I least expect. Ps: When you lift my name in prayers, an angel lifts yours too. 🤭

See you next week! ( Ending my articles like this actually motivates me to write, because I like to believe you’re expectant of me. 🙂) 

Bye for now, till next time, my habibis. 🫶🏿

With love,

Firdawz. ❤️

Ya aʿizza i (يا أعزائي)- “Oh my dearest ones”. ❤️🥹

I welcome you with the best, most blessed and most noble of greetings; a greeting perfected by revelation and unrivaled by any other. 

             Asalam alaykum waramtulahi wabarakatuhu. 

May the peace, mercy and abundant blessings of Allah be upon you. 

It's the fifth day of Ramadan already and I know our energy is already dipping. That excitement, thrill, and anticipation we all felt at the start of this blessed month? Slowly fading.

Balancing fasting, qiyam-layl, and every act of ibadah with school, work, and life's endless stressors isn't easy and I completely understand the fatigue building up. 

But look at us ? Still here, still showing up and that’s all that truly matters. 🤭💃

  Whenever Ramadan drew near, the prophet ﷺ used to draw the hearts of his companions to its mercy stating:  

Ramadan has come to you, a blessed month. Allah has made fasting it obligatory upon you. In it the gates of Paradise are opened, the gates of Hell are closed, and the devils are chained. In it is a night better than a thousand months. Whoever is deprived of its goodness has truly been deprived.” highlighting the unparalleled blessings and opportunities in this blessed month, emphasizing that ‘Ramadan is a gift, not a given.’ 

Allah also revealed in Suratul baqarah, Ayah 183 that; 

يَا أَيُّهَا الَّذِينَ آمَنُوا كُتِبَ عَلَيْكُمُ الصِّيَامُ كَمَا كُتِبَ عَلَى الَّذِينَ مِن قَبْلِكُمْ لَعَلَّكُمْ تَتَّقُونَ

O you who have believed, fasting has been prescribed for you as it was prescribed for those before you, that you may attain ‘taqwa’ (become righteous, attain piety, and increase God’s consciousness) as Allah only accepts the deeds of the righteous. 

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It was also narrated by Abu Huraira (رضي الله عنه)  that the Prophet ﷺ said:

“Whoever stands in prayer on the night of Qadr out of sincere faith and seeking Allah’s reward will have all their previous sins forgiven.

And whoever observes fast during the month of Ramadan with sincere faith and hoping to attain Allah’s reward, will also have all their previous sins forgiven.”

So, cut back on your speech, bridle your tongue, and increase your worship. Stand in prayer, ponder Allah's words, reduce your bad habits, and do more adhkars. Be fully conscious of every action you take. Fill your days with acts of devotion and your nights with righteous deeds.

Strive to attain closeness to Allah, maintain firm determination, increase your efforts, engage in charity, help the poor, feed the needy, and support your neighbors. Fasten your belt for it is an honor, to have reached this blessed month of Ramadan.

Seize every moment of worship to draw closer to your Rabb and attain Allah's pleasure as your virtue will increase, and your reward will be multiplied, oh seeker of glad tidings! Seek the best of this month and treasure it as much as you can, for it comes with undimming presence and unparalleled  blessings. 

Abu Huraira  رضي اللّه عنه)  reported: The Messenger of Allah, (PBUH) said: 

“Allah said: 'Every deed of the son of Adam is for him, except fasting; it is for Me, and I will reward it! 

Fasting is a shield. When one of you fasts, let him avoid obscene speech and foolish behavior. If someone insults or quarrels with him, let him say: 'Indeed, l am fasting!'

The fasting person has two moments of joy: when he breaks his fast, and when he meets his Lord, for his fasting."

And on the days you stumble, when you sleep through your alarm, feel too tired for taraweeh, or endure moments when fasting is exhausting and standing in prayer feels like a chore. On the days when solitude feels easier than devotion, when your recitation feels empty and your motivation has fully waned- because the days will always rear their heads, remember the purpose of it all. You don’t need to be perfect; you just need to show up and be present. 

The Prophet ﷺ said—in an hadith reported by Aisha (radiyallah anha): “The deeds most loved by Allah are those done regularly, even if they are small.” ''A'ishah (ra) also  narrated: When the last ten nights began, the Messenger of Allah would stay up at night, wake his family, and tighten his waist-wrap (exert himself in worship) 

Let this month awaken your heart and recharge your soul, so when it slips away, you have gained its full reward, your soul aches at its absence and you grieve its departure. 

Ramadan is just a reminder, worship isn’t just for 30 days! Fasten your belts, guard your hearts, strengthen your resolve and protect yourself from the temptations of the dunya and the fleeting pleasures of the forbidden always.

May Allah accept all our acts of worship, grant our duas, leave us with brighter days and with fuller, more renewed hearts. ✨

Thank you for reading, it means the most to me. 🥹 Subsribe to stay tuned for the next piece.

Please like, comment and share too. Remember, every act of goodness that you pass on brings the same reward as the person who benefits from it. May you have the most amazing, fulfilling and most blessed Ramadan ever. See you next week. ✨

Your habibti,

Firdawz. 💗

Hiii, my loves.

Path and pharm has been dealing with me a lot, I am acc so tired. For a class that we still have like 10 months ahead, I am not looking forward to this level at all. Oti sunmi mehn. 😪

I watched Haq a few days ago, and I have never felt prouder of a woman in my entire lifetime. Like a kite flying freely in the sky, you can be anything, so high.✨

• AN EYE FOR AN EYE.

This is more of a rant than a publication. I can't even be angrier.

Most of the situations I've found myself in exist solely because I tried seeing the best in people. If only I had been a little more cautious, a tad more wicked, ✨ I would have avoided so many of the messes I'm currently untangling myself from.

• STOP GIVING AWAY YOUR POWER. ✋🏿

For most of my life, I tried to see people in the best light, accord them grace, and treat them with the purest intentions, as much as I possibly could. And for most of it, people have reminded me, repeatedly, why it wasn't necessary.

I used to give too much of my power to opinions that were never mine to carry. I confused being accepted with being worthy. I feared reprisal and I only tied my value to being liked and understood. Until recently, I hadn't realized just how much of my life I had given away in pursuit of acceptance.

I only truly started living recently - accepting and loving myself wholly, regardless of whatever people felt, projected or mirrored onto me when something happened with someone I never envisaged would react the way they did. And that was the icing on the cake for me. I have decided to live life like a kite, freely-flowing, unburdened, without extra care.

• BE A WHISTLE NOT A FLOWER. 🌺

I read something recently about how, as a woman, being a "bitch" is essential, and I couldn't agree more. Be more like a whistle than a cosmos flower, sisters. You'll notice how much more you're respected when you stop being so soft all the time, stop placing everyone else's needs above your own, and start treating yourself as equally important.

Don't be the woman who sets the table. Be the one who flips it.

The world is kinder to women who choose themselves first. End the call. Don't close the door softly on days you're expected to slam it shut. Strut confidently. Raise your head up high. Do not settle. Move with all the elegance and grace you possess.✨

• BE A FRIEND TO YOURSELF

“What progress, you ask, have I made? I have begun to be a friend to myself." — Seneca.

Be kind to yourself. Extend grace to yourself and be a better friend to yourself. You are so much more than you think you are, and the only limit that exists is the one you set.

Be the one who plans. The one who organizes. The one who leads. The one who leaves at the slightest hint of disrespect. Be the firm one. The one whose boundaries are clear and the one no one dares to cross. Be the CEO, the doctor, the writer, the leader. Be the teacher, the mother, the supervisor, the friend.

Refill your cup as many times as you can. All the love you're searching for already exists within you. Have everything. Do everything. Fulfill the promises you have made to yourself. Give yourself grace. Aim higher. Reach beyond your comfort. Stretch your hands towards everything you want. You owe yourself that much and more.

• BURN SO BRIGHT. 🔥

Be the woman with audacity. The woman with grace. The woman with poise and so much charisma. Burn so brightly you set the world on fire. Stay rooted in your seasons like tall green trees and do not let your faith waver.

I hope you never shrink in places where you're meant to spread wide and take up space, you do not clip your wings when you are meant to fully fly and flap them with vigor. Your light doesn't dim because someone else isn't ready for it and your presence doesn't have to be comfortable for everyone. Let whomever think whatever.

It's sheer folly and pure madness to expect everyone to like you or to spend your life trying to please people who are almost never pleased. Live your life according to your dictations and love the life you live.✨

• SPEAK YOUR TRUTH. 🗣️

Being disliked is part of growing. It only means you're holding your ground, speaking your truth, and living without seeking permission. If you keep muting what makes you different because it unsettles others, it may feel safe for a while, until you realize you're slowly disappearing.

And if you're misunderstood, gossiped about, or met with eye rolls, that's very fine too. Walk past them in full stride. Roll your eyes back and hiss louder than them!

Extend as much grace as you receive. If people can go low, you can definitely go lower. There's no prize for being the bigger person. ( What’s being a bigger person when I'm literally 5'2.🤣)

• CHOOSE YOURSELF.

Whatever action you take, there’s quite literally a reaction to it so why not say a loud "fuck you" to the systems designed to keep you small? Playing by the rules makes everyone else happy. Who even set the rules in the first place?

I hope you don't close doors gently on days you're expected to slam it shut. I hope you stop people-pleasing and you don’t care about what others think of you. I hope you keep disappointing people who always have something to say about you, because they don't matter in the grand scheme of things.

I hope you don't spend your life wallowing, shrinking and caring more about being liked than living with every ounce of yourself, to the brim, until you stand at the very peak of your pinnacle. Really, what haven't they already said or done before?

Pour into yourself. Put yourself first. Prioritize yourself. Stop overcompensating. Actively choose yourself and let go of people-pleasing, it literally has never gotten anyone anywhere.

Nice girls don't get the front seat. They get dismissed and are shoved into corners of the room. The world will do the same without any hesitation.

Say no without fear. Move forward without bitterness. Do not make a victim of yourself. Be polite, firm, and kind. Carry quiet strength. Hold clear boundaries. Be selective with your presence.

Be a witch. Say no. Disagree. Rebel. Be okay with being misunderstood. Stand up for yourself, always and stop trying to prove your worth. You are not for everyone, and that's okay.✨

Boundaries don't mean other people's needs do not matter- they mean yours matter too.✨ There’s love at home and there’s love within you for you, dearest.

Be steady, be principled and set boundaries. You matter as much as everyone else in the room does. The end. ✨

Byee, my friends. ❤️

See you in the next post. Thank you for reading, it means the world to me. ❤️

Please like, subscribe and share if you enjoyed reading this piece.

In loving memory of my dad, Dr. Shuaib A. G. May Allah be pleased with him. 💗

I am writing about my father in past tense and I can’t believe I am writing about my father in past tense.

25th of September is easily the worst day of my life- the day the entire trajectory of my life took a completely different turn, one I don’t think any other day could ever surpass. AbdulRazaq is the closest image to what I have left of my dad; his left-handedness, quirky humor and uncanny mannerisms that portrays the splitting image to who exactly he was. 

There’s no feeling that compares to grief. Grief is not gauzy; it is substantial, oppressive- a thing, opaque. A stubborn reality that refuses to budge.

Some losses change our entire world forever and for me;  this is one of them. I miss my dad in the way I try to see his gesticulations in my brothers’ behavior; in the way I try to search for him on special occasions hoping he is seated across the high table with a big smile plastered across his face, beaming with pride; in the way I have big news to share and the first person that comes to my mind is Baba Hakeem, my father.

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I miss him in the way I want to seek advice wanting to know what he would think, because he always gave the most beautiful advice; in the way I refrain from billing my mum because I don't know how she would react to me asking for money he would have freely given me, extra, without even asking; in the way I want to rant, especially to him, that medical school is dealing with me and I don't like the school or course he chose for me, and that I am constantly going through a lot-and he would simply say, "Igba melo lo ku, shebi o ti wo 400 level," because he always told me to look at the brighter side of things.

I miss him in the way I would run to sit with him whenever I returned from school, gisting him about my day without a care in the world, because one of my favourite things in life was simply hanging out with my father. In the way I told anyone who cared to listen that my dad was my perfect father, a perfect gentleman. In the way I told him whenever I had a crush on a boy at school and didn't know how to act, knowing he would most likely laugh it off and say boys could always come after school.

I miss his laughter, echoing across the room, revealing his half-hearted dimple on his right cheek and the most perfect dentition. I miss the way he called me his princess and constantly showed me he would bring the world to my feet if ever there was a need for it. I miss how hardworking he was, how I found him working most of the time just to provide everything I ever wanted, asked for, or needed to be comfortable, without ever complaining.

I miss the abundance I associated only with him. His emotional intelligence. The way he helped people without ever asking for anything in return. His non-reactivity. The way he supported every dream we ever had, making us feel bigger than we actually were. The way I hurried to bring home my report card just to show him I had improved, and he would tell me how proud he was. The way he read whatever I wrote aloud to anyone who cared to hear. The way he excused my mistakes without ever scolding me or making me feel small.

I miss the days he told me to stop managing money and to spend his on days I tell him I am trying to save. The days I try to recreate how he liked his coffee-steaming hot, with a sachet of Peak milk and plenty sugar, that always had us begging him to remain small for us. The way I wish I had spent more time with him towards his demise, though I always felt he was 90s material.

There was a time I had the world and everything it contained, and that was because I had him in it.

He gave us provision, security, wealth, abundant health-everything wrapped in rainbows and promises and made us feel as though there was no pain left in the world. I was truly happy. I didn't only adore him in the classic way of a daddy's girl; I genuinely liked him. I like him 

I only ever started writing because of my dad, he was always available to read my very poorly written pieces, then and give so much praises. He even went as far as recommending me to a journalist stating I should be writing for the newspaper media she worked with.

Every bit of confidence I ever garnered was because of him. Daddy never saw a single thing wrong with his princess. He constantly spoke of how perfect, beautiful, intelligent, and impeccable I was. He praised my writing, my wit, my sense of style and my entire being making me feel as though God outdid Himself in crafting me.

He paid attention exquisitely. He was fully present with his children. His mannerisms were beyond par, and he was a great listener. If you told him something once, he remembered it; anything at all.

He was thoughtful too-you could mention liking mango in passing, and he would return home with a bag of mangoes. When I battled severe acne in SS3 and cut out sugar and whole grains, including white rice my dad came home with two full bags of Ofada rice just for me. He infused meaning into the simplest of descriptions, a good man, an even better father. 

When I was insecure about being 5'2, he told me it didn't matter—that all that mattered was success in my dealings. He always outdid himself and for someone so extraordinary, we spent only a short time together. Enemies beware, my father is gone, my madness may now bare itself. 

I back away from condolences. People are kind; people mean well. But knowing this doesn't make their words rankle less. “Bask in the memories," they say but it isn’t it far too soon to expect memories to serve only as salve ?

Daddy didn't deserve to die. He was too good to be true. One of a kind and I loved him so much, so fiercely, so tenderly and I used to tell all who cared to listen about him. My father. My father. My father- Baba Hakeem.

A cataclysmic hole has now gaped opened in my life—a part of me snatched away forever, and nothing ever contained in this earth and all it encompasses will ever fill it.

Sometimes I catch a whiff of his scent, or the smell of the hospital he was admitted to before his death, and I wish it could stay forever-wrap its arms around me the way he used to. But never has come to stay, and never feels unfairly punitive.For the rest of my life, / will live with my hands outstretched for things that are no longer there.

“Be as prayerful as your mother, as determined as your aunt, be loving and have a great interpersonal relationship like Mubarak’s mom and be humble and generous like me,” he’d always tell me and I hope I am half as great as he states I should be. 

My father was the best physician I ever knew. My siblings and I are threading this career path solely because of his influence.

I also came across a random’s user instagram post one evening I was scrolling, where she mentioned him and I have never felt prouder of him being a doctor.https://www.instagram.com/p/DPIk9bODN_k/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link

On the day he died, people from all walks of life came from near and far to his burial and everything they said all summed up to one thing- Dr Shuaib was a good man. Their words attested to the countless times he had helped, assisted or lifted a burden from someone.

He is my inspiration. Whenever I see someone speak well of him, it warms my heart because the list of his goodness is endless.

If there's any solace I find, it is in knowing my dad left this world smiling- in the way he always did when he was alive. A smile was plastered across his face as he was being shrouded, beaming even in death. If that isn't one of God's greatest miracles, I don't know what is. I hope the angels received his purely scented soul with a smile and welcomed him with "Salam alaykum," the best of greetings.

I will never see my father, never again, and it feels I wake up only to sink and sink. In these moments, I am sure I don’t ever want to face the world again.

One evening, I was on the streets of Lagos, hustling to catch a BRT bus from the market, and the thought of my dad flashed across my mind. I thought, Daddy would not want to see his princess in this state. I think of his presence and how much of a difference it would have made in my life-how much light, color, and ease he would have brought and I can only imagine.

His presence often flashes across my mind in times like these: when I fumble an exam, make a mistake, or make a bad decision. What would Baba Hakeem have done instead? How would he have advised me to fix it? He was easily the wisest man I knew. He worshipped integrity. His grace, his wisdom and his simplicity, and how utterly unimpressionable he was. and he had appreciation for the properness of things.

Grief is a crazy feeling, often accompanied with an avalanche of emotions- Sometimes it comes with love, cherishing memories that deliver eloquent stabs of pain reminding us, “this is what you will never have again.” Sometimes it comes with pain, resentment for what could have been different, and anger at the unfairness of life. And sometimes grief comes with laughter, on special days when we cherish memories, hoping to relive them someday. The pain of losing a loved one never fully goes away; we only learn to live with it and wrap our minds around it.

I became aware of my sensitivity when my dad passed away. I had always been reactive to small things, but this—this was the biggest of all. I had been drained limp from crying, and even to speak about it would be to cry again.

My first ever writing was to my dad. I look up to him as he is a very smart man. He built up most of my English vocabulary and geared me up to read the newspaper. I learnt the word 'el dorado' from him and if the word were to quantify a person's exquisiteness, wealth, insight, opportunities and beliefs instead of a city's ; the word could be likened to his overall richness in personality! He inspired me to write and if I still muster the courage to do so, it is solely because of him.

He has always been my number one fan and my greatest support. I remember one of the most vivid memories from my childhood: my birthday during the second year of junior secondary school. Mom rarely celebrated birthdays, and I had no plans to celebrate with friends. Still, I had told my friends I would bring gifts for each of them without a plan of how. 😭 A few days before my birthday, they reminded me about my promise. I told my dad, and he helped me get everything I needed that same evening without Mom’s knowledge. Even when Mom drove me to school the next morning, he sent someone to deliver the gifts to me in school. Of course, Mom eventually found out and was angry with him for a few days. Looking back, I realize how he always put my happiness before his own. He loved everything about his kids and his family were his friends.

He was so respectful of our boundaries and was so grateful for the smallest of things. He would tell my siblings and me to foster our siblinghood, to stick together, and he encouraged a spirit of togetherness.

I can still see the pride on his face every time I brought home good results. His pride in me mattered more than anyone else’s, even when it wasn’t easy. He used to call me his “veteran,” telling me things came easily to me. Whenever I told him medical school was hard and I was tired, he would tell me to just do my best and graduate-no one was forcing me to do more than my abilities allowed. I just wish he had stayed a little longer to listen to me whine about my intense hatred for anatomy.

To me, personally, Dad has always been a huge influence. Many times, he came through in ways I didn’t expect. He is my sire, my seer, with his light guiding my every step, through every rise and fall. He is a great man; always reminding me, as a woman, of the importance of having great anima and striving to be great. I remember him giving me a magazine on International Women’s Day that highlighted great women and their accomplishments. He asked why I wasn’t among them yet. Little things like that, done consciously or unconsciously, mean the world to me. I owe my kids a mother like my father.

More than my father, he is my friend. More than my father, he is human and flawed, just like me and I don’t think I have seen a love, so big, so daunting, so great compared to his. Everything good in me is a reflection of his love, wisdom, and unwavering support. He is the architect of my being, the silent hero behind every success and the steady hands that lifted me through every fall. The mosaic that is me is an immutable piece molded by him.

Nothing ever compares to grief, and nothing ever will. The weight is heaviest in the mornings, post-sleep: a leaden heart, a stubborn reality that refuses to budge. It has been two years and I only recently caught a break. I miss my dad so much and nothing ever compares. The only thing closer to grief is insanity.

The waves never stop coming, and somehow we never really want them to. We often don’t know how we’d grieve until we do. Laugh about it, be sad, cry until the tears stop, crash out, go through their photo books, write, document what remains, keep messages, cherish memories, relive moments, visit their graves and worship the beauty of a life well lived. Hang on to the tiny piece of the wreckage for as long as you can. It only shows the magnificence of the ship that was and is no more. If the scars are deep, it only means the love was deep and scars are a testament to life.

Sometimes the waves come in small drifts, caressing you. Other times, they arrive as a full-force storm tearing you down, with pain throbbing and wreckage all around. It still feels as raw as the day it happened.

In every frame, there will always be a space only my dad could fill. His presence lives on in the warmth of memories, lighting up the gaps with love and smiles. I am certain he will always be there beside me guiding me with his light through every step of the way. The earth was lucky he walked upon it leaving footprints on its path. I am grateful to have experienced him while I had. Thank you for giving me the greatest gift-the best of you. Dr. Shuaib A.G. I hope to live life just like you did. With love, strength, faith and honor.

Till we meet again, when there’d be no departure. Sun re o, Baami. May Allah forgive your sins, grant you the highest rank in Jannah and may your barzakh be filled with the all light you radiated while here. Allahumma ighfir lahu warhamhu ❤️🥹. The end.

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FIRI’S CORNER

I made a corner for a few close people to tell me what daddy was to them too and here’s what they had to say:

AbdulHakeem, my big brother sent me this alongside a long voice note that I wouldn’t be able to share here.

This was what Hikmah, my sister stated.

Abdulrazaq, his twin had lots of things to say but I couldn’t capture all of it into one picture.

Every other person had extremely beautiful things to say and I wouldn’t be able to fit all of them into one single piece so I only handpicked a few.

If you’re still here up until now, please like, share and click the subscribe button to turn on post notifications as they drop. It would mean a lot to me. Thank you for reading. ✨

Aduke mi o won (My Dearest Aduke),

Oluwa pari ise Lori e (God took time in crafting you).

~ Nurtured, watered, and grounded in love.~

 This note should have been published on my birthday this year, 24/10/25 but I have been met with procrastination alongside life’s turbulence, but here it is for you all to read.

Hiii, my loves.

It’s been a very long year since I last wrote to you or even practiced writing at all, and now my writing feels as rusty as ever. It’s only a few days to the end of this year, and I do not think there is a better time this piece should be published than now. I have always liked to share my thoughts with you, and I hope you find some joy reading this.

I have always likened myself to light in its truest and purest form. The sun that never sets, and the night with the brightest light. Light that finds its way through little ominous cracks, persevering and spreading out its luminous rays, filling the entire room in the quiet defiance of the dark, and while the light flickers sometimes, it is one that always shines and is built with continuous, unwavering love.

I have seen this in the way most of my relationships play out, my relationship to my mother, or when I actively try to work on flaws I have observed within myself, the way I exert myself working towards a goal, continuously shifting and rewiring myself to become a better person to myself and others, regardless of my personal struggles.

I recently decided to make the most of my life (part of the reason why I picked up writing again) and write my story with adulthood in focus, and the things that really matter in view; those I can’t control, and the critical that wouldn’t matter in the coming years towards building the foundation of the life I truly want. 

Recently, my mother has advanced from taking her toes off the pedals of my life to completely being off, leaving me to steer the wheel of my life on or off course and significantly make decisions to alter and create full-blown effects in my life, and I have never been more scared. 

Decisions on friendships, love, finances, education, and the things that spark my interests, and will set the path to my life without the constant nudge and tiny whisper of my mother’s words; “your life is in your hands,” “see the way your brothers are forging through their lives” “I am the only living parent you have now, don’t kill me,” and “I have tried my best o however you decide to live is up to you” in a strong Yoruba accent that makes me feel anything I do with my life is really my cross to bear. 

It’s been a year now, and I can’t afford to waste any more seasons exploring other gardens, I want to find my own field, return to it, tend to it, and nurture it. I want to embrace all the dust and twisted flowers present, carefully pluck out the weeds, the excesses that remain, and trim all that is left to perfection.

 I am nowhere near perfect, and I will never assume myself to be, as I will always falter with my decisions, my choices, my career, and my relationships, but at least I will let go of the self-blame, self-pity and hurt that always comes with comparing myself to the perfect image I have built for others in my head and when my time is due, please remember me as I am, with my flaws and faults, my grin and frown, my wits and laughter, my smile, and my musing mind wandering around in the fickleness of life. Give me my flowers, knowing I lived life trying my best and always put my best foot forward in every phase I have ever lived and every chapter I have ever flipped through. 

I hope little Firi looks at me now, still with admiration and curiosity, trusts me enough to  bare her heart out and perfectly pen down her story in the most honest and beautiful way, regardless of the obstacles we might have to fight along the way, and I hope to carry her trust with full-blown armour guiding her every step of the way.

May you always return to faith when your fate is tested, to stillness in troubled waters, and to purpose when all seems bleak and daunting. May this coming year be your becoming, your gentle rebuilding, your emotional and mental compassion, and a year of self-discovery.

 May you learn to unlearn guilt, relearn peace, and learn to water yourself, and when it gets tough, because it always will, may you conquer your fears with a calmer heart, a gentler path, and a constant reminder that the only way forward is through. This is a gentle rebuilding, a quiet surrender. May your crown never slip, and your throne never fall, Olori  Oyinkanola. 

Today is yours and so is every tomorrow. ✨

Be the leading lady in your life and step into the spotlight, THE STAGE IS ALL YOURS... ‘Lights, Camera, Action’! 📸