I lost my grandfather on the 28 of March this year and I still can't believe it. I have started and scrapped this post over a thousand times since then, unable to write about him in past tense.
All my life till that day in March, Tunji Braithwaite was just my over-involved-in-my-life grandpa. He wanted to know how I was doing in school, how I was doing at work, what I wanted to be and how I planned on getting there. I disagreed with him and he disagreed with me. When he upset me, I wrote him strong messages and when he gladdened me, I gave him big hugs. I lived with him, played with him, fought with him, prayed with him, followed him to places, learnt from him but most importantly loved him with all of me. He was the first person to tell me I'm gifted and the second person (only after my father) to tell me that there's "something" about me.
His death really shook me because I was always sure he'd be at my wedding, sure he'd bless my children at their naming ceremonies. I assumed he'd be the one that will pray over my own mansion. I assumed, he'd always be there, fighting and loving. Yes, he was 82 but death never crossed my mind whenever I thought about him. I worried about him turning 90 and prayed that he'd never loose his strength but I never ever worried that he might die soon.
He called me Dara Rhodes before I even knew what that meant, read every article I wrote, constantly told me to be fearless and constantly reminded me that I am his granddaughter. So today, I am nothing but grateful. Grateful to have known you as well as I did and grateful to have your blood in me.
Since that day, I have read and listened to hundreds of people and articles talk and write about my grandpa. And even though I'm sure you didn't know grandpa, your people really loved you.
This one is for you Olatunji Akintunde Braithwaite, thank you for every single thing and I promise to never forget.
From the bottom of my heart,
Dara Rhodes
