08/01/2026
Tribute to my grandmother
There are some people whose presence in our lives feels like sunlight steady, warm, and healing. For me, that light was my grandmother, Mrs. Deborah Aniweze, whom I fondly called Nwanuka. Even as I write this, my hands tremble, and my heart aches because every word reminds me of what I have lost and how blessed I was to have her.
Grandma was a woman of rare grace gentle yet powerful, soft spoken yet filled with the kind of inner strength that only faith can give. Each morning when she lived with us in Onitsha, her day began with devotion. She would brush her teeth, bathe, put on clean clothes, and step outside with her usual calm dignity. The neighbours often asked her, “Mama, where are you going this early?” And with that humble smile that never faded, she would reply, “Let me go and bow down to God.”
Sometimes, I would catch her sitting quietly, reading her Igbo Bible, her eyes following each verse with peace and understanding. I remember laughing once and teasing her, saying, “So, Mama, you know how to read very well like this?” She chuckled softly and said, “Yes, my child.” That moment stayed with me her wisdom wrapped in humility. She was not just reading words; she was living them.
When she later moved to Port Harcourt in 2016, the house felt different quieter, emptier. I visited her in 2019, and the joy on her face when she saw me filled the entire room. For a week, we laughed, gisted, and sang our little songs together songs where we called each other by name and created melodies only our hearts could understand. When I left, she held me close, her eyes bright with pride and love.
In 2020, I went back and spent a whole year with her. I never knew that would be the last time I would see her. That year was a treasure every day with her was a story, a lesson, a prayer. She always had gist ready for me, small stories full of humour and wisdom. I used to call her “Nwunye Luben" and she would call me “Nnanyelugo” — the name my late father gave me. Each time she said it, it felt like hearing my father’s voice again.
Whenever she felt sick, she would ask for her “holy water.” I’d fill a bottle with water, pray over it, and hand it to her. The next morning, she would smile and say, “Eke, my holy water worked. God is good.” When it finished, I’d hear her familiar voice calling from her room, “Eke! Ekee! Ekeeeee!” And I’d answer, “Ee, Nwunye Luben, kedu ihe ọ bụ?” She would laugh and say, “Nnanyelugo, my holy water has finished.” Those little moments were our private language of love.
Sometimes, when I noticed she was feeling lonely, I’d bring my phone, play music, and start dancing just to make her smile. If I was busy, I’d leave the music by her bedside so she wouldn’t sit in silence. Being with her was joy itself. Her advice was deep, her love unconditional.
Then came that day August 1, 2025 the day my heart shattered. When I first heard of her departure, I couldn’t believe it. I thought it was a mistake, a dream that I would soon wake from. But when I was told to write her tribute, the truth hit me like thunder. I sat for a long time, staring at the paper, tears blurring my eyes. That was when I knew my grandmother, my prayer partner, my Nwanuka was truly gone.
She lived a full ninety years a life anchored in faith, love, and service. She left behind children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren who carry her light within them. Her strength still guides us, her prayers still protect us, and her spirit still sings in the quiet places of our hearts.
Grandma, I miss you every single day. I miss your songs, your laughter, your “holy water” stories, your Bible readings, and your prayers. You were my peace, my joy, my comfort. Even in death, your presence surrounds me like a gentle whisper of love.
Rest well, Nwanuka. Until we meet again, may your gentle and beautiful soul continue to rest in perfect peace.
A Short Prayer:
Heavenly Father, thank You for the gift of Grandma Deborah Aniweze. Thank You for her life of faith, humility, and love. May her soul find eternal rest in Your presence. Comfort us who mourn her loss and help us live in the example she set with prayer, kindness, and peace. Amen.
Your grandson
Ekene Simon Ozommadukwe
(NNANYELUGO)
