Nne Bulu Igwe (By His Death Bed)

He reached out for the suitcase under his wooden bed, but his hands trembled with the weight of old age. This was the same uncle who visited without fail, always slipping cash into everyone's hands, no matter how small the gesture. He was the uncle who believed in the adage, "It takes a community to raise a child," and who went out of his way to inspire, uplift, and reassure others with his words: "Ifeoma di n’iru" (Good things lie ahead). Nne Bulu Igwe wasn’t a man of material wealth, but he was rich in character, wisdom, and the values he shared.

Though his legacy was one of generosity and wisdom, he was also a father struggling to connect with his son, who faced challenges in his career path. Nne Bulu Igwe was a retired civil servant from the Federal Mortgage Bank and a former union leader—a man with a voice so powerful, it softened even the hardest hearts. He was known for his oratory, often likened to the great T.D. Jakes. Beyond his words, he was a man of discipline: his nails were always neatly trimmed, and his trousers were pressed to perfection, even for informal occasions. His class and dignity earned him nicknames like "Rolls Royce" and an "Oxford-rated" man.

Nne Bulu Igwe’s only son, Obiajulu Ani, fondly known as "Spec," was a law graduate who never attended law school. Spec had taken a different path as a fashion model for small start-ups. Their perspectives clashed—Nne Bulu Igwe clung to the old convention that education was the key to success, while Spec believed the world had moved beyond that mindset. Yet, despite their differences, Nne Bulu Igwe never ceased to encourage his son, often crafting well-tailored diz—witty yet loving remarks—wrapped in a blend of humor and affection. He described his son's challenges as a "Fall from Grace" or "Stages of War." Truly, he was a man of impeccable diction.

Meanwhile Spec often reassured Nne Bulu Igwe that his career dip was only temporary, likening it to the fluctuating candlesticks in Binary Options, with the promise of a bull run on the horizon. He described himself as a child component whose parent component had refused to pass its argument—leaving him no choice but to react. With a wry smile, he'd say, "This isn't DevOps; this is Poetic-Ops."

On May 28, 2021, at the age of 72, Nne Bulu Igwe passed away from what was said to be a sugar-related illness. His final moments were spent in his grey-painted room at 44 Calabar Street. By his bedside sat John Madu, a once-struggling young man who had now grown into an established poultry farmer, expanding his business into rural Ebonyi State—a testament to Nne Bulu Igwe's influence. Leaning against a cupboard was Nweze C. Nweze, a quality control engineer at Julius Berger, who had found both guidance and a home under Nne Bulu Igwe’s roof.

Standing at the foot of the bed were Spec and Charlie. Spec, while still navigating his path, had appeared on Entertainment TV’s as a guest on numerous occasion, carving a niche for himself as a runway model. Charlie, on the other hand, had risen to become a climate analyst with the UN, another life that Nne Bulu Igwe had touched deeply. Sitting on the bed was Dr. Clara Onuigbo, a young consultant at the National Specialist Hospital. Clara was once a little girl unable to afford tuition until Nne Bulu Igwe stepped in. Today, she had reached the pinnacle of her career and was administering his final medications.

Connected via video calls from around the globe were Dr. Odibeze at Illinois, USA, Professor Nnuzo at Winnipeg, Canada, and Dr. Obiechina at Birmingham, UK—all successful individuals whose lives had been forever shaped by Nne Bulu Igwe’s mentorship and encouragement.

As the weight of finality hung in the room, Nne Bulu Igwe shared his parting wisdom. He spoke about family and the importance of holding onto the bonds that matter, whether by blood or chosen. "As you walk this journey of life," he said, "you don’t need to be a perfect teacher to be a great one—you just need to make others happy to learn." An involuntary cough halted his speech, just as Mr. Asiegbu Eze, a cloth dealer at Mandelas Lagos, and his wife, Nneze, walked in. They had kept Nne Bulu Igwe’s wardrobe fresh for years.

Nne bulu igwe

Then, with a voice that carried the weight of decades, Nne Bulu Igwe shared his final words: "The best thing parents can do for their children is teach them how to get along without them." At 6:15 p.m. that day, he took his last breath. The grief in the room was palpable—some wept openly, while others bore the pain in silence.

The legacy of Nne Bulu Igwe is one of love and impact. Though he is gone, the lives he touched and the values he imparted continue to echo through time. Our time in this world is not measured, and no day is promised. Each day is a gift, and we have the freedom to shape it as we choose. When we depart, we will be remembered by those who knew us. May our deeds and legacy endure beyond our time, built on the foundation of meaningful impact. They say we only live once—if we do it right, once is enough.