Ode To My One True Hero

Martins Adebayo Akintokun (1932-2020)

The 22nd of July 2020 will always be a very memorable day for me. Just less than 24 hours earlier, I had bid my father goodbye and said to him “see you soon daddy”. However, the next time I “saw” him, it was just his body, without him inside it. My elder sister had called me to deliver the news and my whole world came to a screeching halt. It was a day when it seemed like my world was going to end. If I knew it was my last time with my father before I journeyed back to Lagos, I would have bid him a proper goodbye. I would have hugged him really tight, kissed him on the cheeks; and stayed with him till he bade his farewell to this world. What would I not give for the chance to bid him that goodbye.

Goodbyes are always difficult. But it has never been this hard to say goodbye.

I can only reflect and be grateful for the few years I was lucky to have you for.

Those years have shaped and moulded me into who I am today.

You continually pushed me to be a renewed version of myself...from the day I opened my eyes till the day you shut yours.

To you, excellence was never a destination. It was a way of life.

The sacrifices, too numerous to count.

The lessons, too priceless to qualify.

None of which I take for granted; and to all of which, I am eternally grateful.

No son ever had a better father.

You oozed love, and you were deliberate to show love.

Not just to your blood, but to everyone you ever came in contact with.

The testimonies that have been given of you are soothing and enviable.

Ultimately, time defeats us all; and even the bravest of warriors must one day lay down their arms and surrender to Father Time.

Your fight is won.

Your race is done.

Your legacy endures.

Journey well, Brave One.

I would call you back. But when the elephant heads for home, the tail is too small a handhold for the hunter that would pull him back.*

If the world were not greater than the wishes of a grieving son, I would not let you go.

But let my voice ring in your ears awhile.

Let the sensation of my touch linger on your skin for a bit.

For I know there are more sonorous voices and loving touches waiting for you on that side.

Gracefully, gracefully the mask dances home to regain its grove.

Gracefully, gracefully the horseman gallops towards the stables.*

Men come and go as it has been destined...but some names outlive their time.

It will forever remain a goal for me to live a life as good as yours was, even though I know I may fall short.

But when my children tell my own story to their own children, let them say I was born to a brave man, fierce and forthright.

Let them say I was born among the lucky few to be called the Children of Martins.

(* - from Wole Soyinka's Death And The King's Horseman)