A Tribute To My First Hero (say a prayer please as you read)
Dear Daddy,
It’s been 11 years since you returned to Allah.
It was a Sunday then, and it’s a Sunday now.
I visited you today. I stood by your grave with prayers heavier than words. Time doesn’t heal grief, it teaches us to carry it, like a second heartbeat.
Both my younger sisters are married now.
I’m still in the home you built, still winging it through a country that tests every breath.
Still believing that something beautiful is being written, even through the unknown.
Today, I’m sharing something I once vowed only to reveal to
@oprah :
My Instagram handle carries your Nigerian Airways registration number — 001801.
A quiet tribute.
A way to honor you beyond the tragedy.
Because you deserve to be remembered for the skies you soared, not the fire that took you.
When you passed, images of your burning body were circulated online.
A grief within grief.
Please, let’s be more human with each other’s losses. Tomorrow, it could be your loved one.
I became a drone pilot because your spirit of flight lives in me. When I look at the skies, I feel closest to the part of you that no flame could ever touch.
At
@poetryclubbyluls recently, I learned something: Grief never truly leaves, it teaches you how to live more deeply.
Islam also reminds us too: that sabr is not weakness; it is strength anchored in hope.
Allah sees every burden we carry quietly for His sake.
So today, I choose to carry my grief with grace, knowing this separation is only temporary.
Insha’Allah, we’ll meet again, where there are no flames, no grief, no goodbyes.
I love you, Daddy.
Always your little girl,
Aisha 🤍
