IN LOVING MEMORY of my mom, Peace Elemchi Nwankwo.

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There are some memories and moments in life you just don’t forget, no matter how long ago it was. It’s permanent. One moment I’ll always remember is my high school graduation party, or in a Nigerian home, “my child is moving on to higher education” party. In essence, we’re going to throw the party, and you all as guests will open your pockets.

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Some hear party and are excited. I hear party and immediately ask how long. I’m not a party person, and probably will never be one, yet only time will tell. If it was up to me, I would have never had a high school graduation party. Personally speaking, I thought it was a waste of time and would’ve been faster if people just gave me the money upfront; rather than going through the time wasters of setting up the venue, providing food and drinks, awkwardly dancing, and breaking down larger dollar bills just to get one dollar bills to throw them at me. [Don’t worry, that’s custom].

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As the party went on, it finally came time for the people to give speeches, congratulate the graduate, and give their best wishes and blessings. There were a couple of people who gave speeches; including some mazis, aunties, and my parents. I remember my dad giving his speech. It was so elaborate, thoughtful, and moving; and it touched my heart. Then, my mom proceeded after him. She gave a brief introductory of me and then said, “If you can’t run, then walk. If you can’t walk, then crawl. No matter what, just keep moving forward. That’s all I have to say.”

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That’s it! It seemed so small, insignificant, and ridiculously short. It was simple. Moving on from that day, it kind of became a running joke with my siblings. Once in a while, we would find ourselves saying those exact words with the same exact mannerisms she used. “If you can’t run, then walk. If you can’t walk, then crawl. No matter what, just keep moving forward. That’s all I have to say.” It was just so simple. Yet when I look back and reflect on that day, her words are the only words I remember. I don’t remember any of the grand and high sounding speeches the mazis, aunties, or my dad gave. My mom’s words alone stood the test of time.

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“To the one who raised me well

To the one who carried me when my strength was weak

To the one who watched over me and made sure I was alright

To the one who advised me along the journey to adulthood

To the one who is as enduring as a lioness queen

To the one who has persisted and stood the test of time

To the one who showed me limitless unconditional love

To the one who taught me what it means to sacrifice daily

To the one who taught me how to be brave

To the one I call mom

Thank you, I love you, and HAPPY PEACE DAY”

To the One I Call Mom

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I use to say there are three moments that make me cry when I think of my mom, but now, there are four.

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The first was when I was very young, and I remember laying on the couch with sickle-cell crisis in my right arm. My mom told me, “You have to stretch through the pain.” The thing was, any slight movement pained me. But nevertheless, I stretched my arm through the pain, and to my shock, the pain completely vanished.

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In that moment, she taught me how to persevere through adversity.

 

The second time was when I was sick and couldn’t go to school, so my mom took me with her. I was too weak to walk in my own strength, so she gave me a piggyback ride. All I could do in that moment was look down and stare at the floor, but as I would grow and eventually go to college at Georgia State University, I came to recognize the tiles on the floor as the Marta train station.

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In that moment, she taught me how to be strong.

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The third time was when we got into an argument, and I saw my mom cry for the first time. The sound of her wail pierced my heart and immediately arrested my pride.

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That moment taught me what it means to be humble and have a willingness to admit your wrongs. And I was wrong.

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The last time was when I had a moment alone with mom in the hospital for the final time. That day, I spoke to the spirit of Peace and commanded her to live. I thanked her for giving me life, that I would have such honor to be at her bedside, til the last breathe, praying for her and over her. I walked her through prayer; from releasing all unforgivness, bitterness, and anger to surrendering completely to God to allowing Jesus to reign in her heart to declaring healing in her body to a prayer for peace. I commanded that the Kingdom of God would enter into every single one of her cells. And finally, I sealed it all with a song, singing the “Goodness of God” over her and to her. If there’s one thing I learned in that moment, pain may not allow you to speak, but it can’t stop you from shedding a tear. It was the tear in my mom’s left eye that confirmed to me that she received it and could hear every single word. There was no verbal response but a tear of confirmation. In leaving the hospital, I looked at her face for a last time, and it had a smile. The mouth was closed and curved up and her cheeks were so puffy. No more pain! Her soul now rested in peace, as she was so beautifully named Peace.

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All I can do is 1) Be brave, as my mom frequently told me and even bought me a wall art to express that truth and 2) Thank God for his peace, comfort, faithfulness, and strength.

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But, words are easy to recite. Be brave. Take heart. Be strong. Be courageous. Words roll off the tongue with ease, but the battle is in the daily living. I never thought this is how the story would end.

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10.11.19 – Oh the deepness of sorrow.

 

10.27.19 – I’m so overwhelmed. Great responsibility has been placed upon me. It’s heavy, yet I can’t help but wonder what the future holds looking forward to 2020.

 

10.29.19 9:17am – I cried myself to sleep last night.

 

11.4.19 12:51pm – I feel like there’s so much things I wish I could have shown my mom and things that I looked forward to showing her in the future. It saddens me deeply.

 

11.10.19 11:16pm – I danced at my mom’s wake keeping, and it wasn’t bad at all. All for her honor.

 

11.13.19 9:55pm – I just realized I have no one to make coffee or tea for in the mornings anymore. Just one cup.

 

11.16.19 – Today was my mom’s funeral, and this is the tribute I gave. A Time for Peace. There’s a time for everything. “A time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace” (Ecclesiastes 3:8). Today we are celebrating peace day! I used to say that there are three moments that make me cry when I think of my mom, but now there are four…”

 

11.17.19 3:30am – Everyone keeps telling me be strong for your siblings and take care of your dad. But if I have to be strong for my siblings and take care of my dad; who’s going to be strong for me? Who’s going to take care of me? “Me,” says the Lord.

 

11.18.19 12:54pm – The house is so empty when I’m just by myself. It’s quiet. I miss the sound of hearing my mom.

 

11.24.19 8:42pm – Sometimes I just want to scream out of my anger that mom is not here. Scream at the top of my lungs.

 

12.17.19 5:54am – Me, Precious, and Ekene were just talking in my room a few hours ago. I was like wow, this really is a thing. I hoped for this day, and I prayed for this day. I’m sure unforgiveness melted away, and truly, love covers a multitude of sins. While we were talking, mom came up in conversation, and two quick tears fell from my face. I tried to go to Instagram to watch my recent post to cheer me up, so I wouldn’t cry in front of my siblings. But, it was no help. I still shed a couple of tears. Even just now, as I was eating string cheese and crackers, I just thought back to that Monday [10/7/19]. Me and mom went to the park (the recreation center). We first sat down when we walked in and watched a little of the TV (it was at the end of a movie or something), and we just talked. It was a whole bunch of smiles and laughter. We walked up and down the hallway (two times). The first time, when we got to the vending machine, she asked, “You’re gonna buy me the cheddar popcorn?” I was like, “I don’t know maybe if we do it again,” and we did it again. I got her the popcorn, and she sat on the stroller chair and ate half of it. She was so strong, and it was her idea to come to the park in the first place. This is a moment I will cherish. The whole time was a happy moment. Even as we were leaving, and I pulled up the car and mom sat in the car, this lady, in passing by, said something along the lines of “take care of her” or “you’re doing a good thing” or “she did the same thing for you.” I don’t know, although I believe it was the first one; “take care of her,” because it was obvious I was. But, the day was a good day.Things were looking up, and it was a major step forward. A good start, and I looked forward to the next time. I wasn’t expecting her to die. She was on the come up.

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Why?

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My bone was dying, but in the end, healing was mine. October 2018 was my battlefield, and I overcame. Months later, a few days after Christmas, I expected the same for my mom. For a month or so, she had been experiencing pain in her walk and everyday activities. It got to the point where she would go to the emergency rooms and clinic appointments, but nothing. No good answers or explanations as to what was happening. My valiant warrior of a mom was succumbing to something.

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11.24.18 – I’ve been angry and grumpy today. It’s just a mix of things. My parents’ health, going to the mall today, all these requests of me, my right eye’s tired, and others. And this Christmas season. I hate it; but I like it for what it can be. I can’t help but think about the future. The dream of a united family. A family of my own, where we work out our differences and go through things and always always come together in the end. I think back to when I was a child and I craved that. I think; hoping for the dream in the midst of brokenness.

 

11.29.18 – My heart is saddened to see my mom struggle to do the basics, like lifting her legs to get on bed, because of the pain in her lower back that she’s experiencing. It’s like there’s a kink in her armor. For all these years, she wasn’t just a strong woman; she was a strong African woman who did it all. May this phase of struggle come to an end.

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12.7.18 – My mom had a moment where she broke down and cried. All I have to say is that I totally understand what she’s going through and that I feel her pain. It’s more than just physical. It’s a mental battle as well. I hope that she conquers and overcomes.

 

The fact is no one truly knows what you go through on the deepest of levels, but compassion is the bridge to understanding. No way would I have been able to comprehend what my mom felt and experienced physically, mentally, and spiritually on the daily; yet it’s likely my life prepared me for the moments that lied ahead.

 

“All praise to God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. God is our merciful Father and the source of all comfort. He comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort others. When they are troubled, we will be able to give them the same comfort God has given us. For the more we suffer for Christ, the more God will shower us with his comfort through Christ. Even when we are weighed down with troubles, it is for your comfort and salvation! For when we ourselves are comforted, we will certainly comfort you. Then you can patiently endure the same things we suffer. We are confident that as you share in our sufferings, you will also share in the comfort God gives us. We think you ought to know, dear brothers and sisters, about the trouble we went through in the province of Asia. We were crushed and overwhelmed beyond our ability to endure, and we thought we would never live through it.” (2 Corinthians‬ ‭1:3-8‬ ‭NLT‬‬)‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬‬

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Nothing quite prepares you for the moment you hear, “Unfortunately, the cancer has metastasized to the bone.”

 

I was stunned. I was numbed. I trembled a bit, trying to keep myself calm. I wanted to cry, but I didn’t. I wanted my breathing to be steady, but it was a little harsh. My stomach got tight for a bit. Yet in the midst of chaos, on that December 28 day, we prayed immediately. Me, dad, and mom. A couple of minutes later, I remembered the song I made out of Philippians 4:6. “Don’t worry, just pray and thank God. Your story, was written love. He’s faithful, from the beginning of time. He knew; He knew you.”

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The following months were challenging. I became my mom’s care taker. Ever hospital appointment, every overnight stay, every outing, and every need; I was her gal. Now of course I had help, but the bulk fell on me. It was altogether humbling, but for all she ever did for me, this was nothing. It was merely the circle of life. My sacrifice laid in the shadow of her sacrifice. I wish I could say I had the best attitude all the time, but that would be untrue. I found myself frustrated from time to time; frustrated at myself and at others. I wanted so badly to see mom live the abundant life and to see her in any lesser state made me impatient. But, there was always a point of reckoning where I stepped back and remembered.

 

And, my prayer remained the same; God let your will be done.

 

There were many lows and many highs. The lowest low was seeing my mom slip away into a dementia-like state on a few occasions, where she was physically here but mentally gone. The ever changing chemo treatment proved to be challenging, and to a degree, it became a metaphor for frontline soldiers being picked off one by one. On the contrary, the highest moment was that Monday. That day symbolized every moment that ever went well throughout the entire ordeal. Mom embodied every bit of strength that Monday for every time she didn’t give up, every time she was brave, and every time she stood strong. And with that, marked a time coming to an end… here on earth.

 

Mom passed away on October 11, 2019 at 2:00am. If I could bottle my tears, maybe they would flood me all the way to heaven. I had experienced many moments of sadness in life, but never such deep sorrow and deep anguish so unrelenting. Where do I go from here?

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Everything was compiling one by one. I was stressed and overwhelmed. Day by day, the low-lying black cloud kept my soul in a fog of turmoil. But then, I had a dream.

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Sometime in late November 2019 – Dream – (Context: mom passed away October 11, 2019. I’ve had to really step into her responsibility regarding her insurance, billing, finances, planning, family affairs, etc. it’s been overwhelming, yet step-by-step and day by day, I know I will overcome and victory is mine. The Lord is my strength)… Dream – I was on my laptop trying to figure out Medicaid and all the other health insurance etc. and I was in what looked like the Talley Dr dining room. Then, someone dropped an envelope on my laptop that had Medicaid and its address and vital information, so I looked up and it was mom. She told me, “All is well” (All will be well, don’t worry). Then she persisted to give me advice. I was typing what she was saying to me in the dream.

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When I woke up, I didn’t write the dream down. I thought maybe it was me trying to answer myself. But the thing is, I couldn’t forget the dream. I thought about it often and how those words brought me encouragement and great comfort. Having making it into the new year, I’m reminded of those words from time to time. I don’t know why things happen the way they do or why, when we pray, it seems like the complete opposite happens. I may never know on this side of eternity or may not even care to know on the other side, but I’ve made it this far, and the journey still continues. Through the highs and the lows, I will remember three simple words: All is well.

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“For everything there is a season, a time for every activity under heaven. A time to be born and a time to die. A time to plant and a time to harvest... A time to love and a time to hate. A time for war and a time for peace.” (Ecclesiastes 3:1-2, 8 NLT)

 

… A time to be apart and a time to meet again. A final farewell to the one I call mom:

 

Peace Elemchi Nwankwo (Nee Ibe) was born in Aba, Nigeria on January 17, 1966 to Chief Justus Ibe and Lolo Lucy Ibe. She was the youngest child out of her parent’s ten children.

 

Growing up, Peace was adventurous and driven by ambition and purpose. She would go on to obtain her first undergraduate diploma in Food/Fisheries Technology. A few years later, she graduated with a post-graduate diploma in Food Science from the University of Humberside Grimsby in England.

 

Peace married Ike Nwankwo on April 8, 1993, journeyed to America, and became a US citizen. Through her union, she was blessed with five children.

 

Accepting the call to jump further and go higher, she graduated from Georgia State University in 2007 with a Bachelor's degree in Sociology and a minor in Gerontology.

 

Her depths of experience is evident in her over 12 years of passionately working in children and youth services. However, greater are the many teachings and words of wisdom spoken to her children and those she advised. Her favorite Psalms were 23, 27, 91, and 116.

 

Though absent from the body and present with the Lord, Peace leaves to cherish her memory her husband, Ike Nwankwo; five children, Ike Jr., Chi-chi, Sarah, Ekene, and Precious Nwankwo; five brothers, Gray Ibe, Prof. Adonis Chidi Ibe, Evans Ngozi Ibe, Chijioke Emmanuel Ibe, and Chibuzo Godswill Ibe; one sister, Joyce Ibe Amadi; and countless cousins, nieces, nephews, and friends who knew her.

 

Peace lived and modeled a life of sacrifice, generosity, strength, and love. She will be truly missed, but her words will forever be in our hearts. Her soul now rests in peace, as she was so beautifully named Peace.

 

Mom, I long for the day when we will meet again. Till then; I will persevere through adversity, be strong, be humble, and be brave.