My Father's Father

I’m in Manchester spending the Spring bank holiday with one of my dearest friends from uni. We were having a conversation and we broached the subjects of friendships, life, happiness as an adult, upbringing, family and how far God has brought us.

Along that conversation, I remembered another conversation. It was one I had with my dad last year and has since made a heavy impression on me. In that conversation, he mentioned that he couldn’t remember what his dad sounded like. From the framing, it was almost as if the memories of the man he once saw every waking day of his life had started to fade. More recently, I asked my dad if he misses his dad and he said he did, albeit faintly.

I think there’s a point to be made about grief and memories that never fade in the fact that he still faintly misses his dad who died over 4 decades ago. However, what struck me the most was the fact that he couldn’t recall what his dad’s voice sounded like. I’ve looked at that fact through the lens of my own life, and it has led me to a special kind of fear.

If you’re like me; grew up seeing your parents almost every day, went to uni not too far away from them, and had to relocate to a new country in your 20s in search of a new phase of life while your parents are in their 60s and living in your home country - there’s a good chance that you’ll see them in-person on average for 2 weeks per year for the rest of their lives. Sure, technology has made it less painful, and you now have the chance to text them and have those WhatsApp video calls with them every day, but it’s hardly the same. Interestingly, I did think I was maximizing what technology provided in that regard. But I quickly realized after that conversation that I may have been even underutilizing some of the privileges that growing up in a technology-enabled world affords me.

I’m sure it’s no consolation to him, but at least in my dad’s case there wasn’t much he could have done. Video and voice recorders weren’t things anyone could just walk up to a store to pick up (at least in Nigeria) in his time.

Prior to that conversation last year, I already made it a mission to take a ton of photos with my parents whenever I visit them in Nigeria, but after that conversation, I started recording more videos of, and my conversations with, them. I recently went back to one of such recordings which I made at my family house on the first night of my last visit to Nigeria. The recording featured me, two of my closest friends (safe to call them brothers), my mum and my dad talking about everything from life to Lagos and politics. I’ve now arrived at a conclusion that that was the best night of my visit.

As you can tell, I’m still not great at titles because this hasn’t really been about my father’s father, has it? But that’s beside the point. Your parents did not have these technologies. You do. What will your excuse be?

This piece was written against a backdrop of Bashy’s Earthstrong, Olivia Dean’s Carmen, and Obongjayar’s All The Difference blasting through my headphones.