Rewind
It is raining and Tobi is in the ground. It is cold, really cold. He'll be cold.
Tobiiiiiii!
7:00 a.m., Tuesday. I was alive and unbothered and going about my ordinary, meaningless Tuesday things. I was attending meetings and completing some little design changes here and there.
Gosh!
I smiled so many times. I smiled so many times. I feel terribly guilty for all the times I laughed and smiled.
I didn’t know. God, I didn’t know.
We grew up together at some point, Tobi and his siblings, and my siblings and I.
There was a little time we lived under the same roof, ate from the same kitchen, and fought over small, forgettable things. When we visited grandma… Those times… good times…
He was my favorite cousin. I never told him though.
Somewhere, while I was laughing and going about my day, Tobi was cold.
Tuesday Evening
“They said Tobi died”
They said: cos it is freaking unbelievable! What do you mean Tobi died?
I got a WhatsApp message from my elder brother. I called him immediately because what does that even mean?
Which Tobi?
Whose Tobi?
That is the part that breaks me open every time I think about it.
It was a hit and run. A careless lexus driver hit him on his bike and the driver ran away.
Tobi fought for his life, he made it to the hospital and I just wish he fought more...
The evening… Which means I had an entire day, a whole Tuesday, of not knowing.
Tobi had been cold since morning, since before I had breakfast, since before whatever small thing made me laugh.
He was already gone and I was just… living. Unbothered and unaware of the great tragedy that befell my extended family. I was going about my Tuesday like it was an ordinary day.
It was going to be an unbelievably sad day and I didn’t even know it yet.
Tobi was 27.
27 years.
Tobi’s Dad
Tobi’s dad was my uncle. He died last year February, 2 months after we buried my grandmother.
We buried my grandmother in December of 2024 and Tobi’s dad died in February of 2025. We buried him in February.
Tobi spent last year learning how to live without his father. He was still learning. He hadn’t even finished grieving and death… death just took him too.
I keep thinking about how unfair it is, how horribly unfair. I am so sorry Tobi. I am so very much sorry.
Moremi
The evening of Tuesday, the same Tuesday Tobi died, Moremi left.
Moremi, my cat.
She slipped out sometime Tuesday evening and disappeared into the night.
I found myself in the middle of the night, calling her name into the dark. Moremi. Moremi.
The night was very sad, and quiet.
I did not sleep. I was wide awake until the next morning. Moremi returned on Wednesday morning.
Guess what?
Tobi did not and I wasn’t dreaming either. He was gone. Gone. Gone.
Oh dear God!
Rain
It is raining.
It was raining when they buried him. It rained on his grave, on the people standing around it, on the red earth that covered him.
My cousin is in the ground. It is raining. He will be cold.
Oh god this freaking rain! I love rainy days. I hate rainy days. I hate rainy days more when someone dies. The rain doesn’t even care.
I know that is not how it works. I know. I just want to go back to Tuesday. Grief just wants to go back, to rewind, just one Tuesday. Just one. Just one Tuesday…
One Tuesday is all I am asking for.
To call him. To say, Tobi, please, don’t go outside today.
Rewind
If I could go back —
I would go back to the last time I saw him I would stay longer. I would not be in a hurry to leave, the way we are always in a hurry to leave, because we think there is always going to be a next time.
There is not always a next time.
If I could rewind —
I would call him on Monday night and I would talk, and talk and talk...
I have been talking since he died. I’ve been rambling and talking and talking…
I would make him laugh. I would listen to him laugh.
If I could rewind —
But I cannot rewind…
Tobi is gone.
It is windy. It is raining. And my cousin is 6 feet down.
Tobiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!
I’m so sorry. I am so sorry very much. I am really sorry.
Tobi’s death was needless. Untimely. Rudeeeeee!
“The reality is that you will grieve forever. You will not ‘get over’ the loss of a loved one; you will learn to live with it.” ― Elisabeth Kübler-Ross