Olumuyiwa | Gone Fishin'

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1-Year Anniversary, Ade, critique, death, diabetes, Heaven, l, memoir, mother-son bond, mother-son relationship, mother-son separations, new book, oldest son, Olumuyiwa, pain-free, resting in the Lord, ultimate separation, untimely farewells

Olumuyiwa Ade Keen

April 30, 1972 – May 2, 2017

He always comes alongside us to comfort us in every suffering so that we can come alongside those who are in any painful trial. We can bring them this same comfort that [YeHoVaH] has poured out upon us. And just as we experience the abundance of [Yeshua HaMashiach’s] own sufferings, even more of [YeHoVaH’s] comfort will cascade upon us through our union with [Yeshua HaMashiach].

If troubles weigh us down, that just means that we will receive even more comfort to pass on to you for your deliverance! For the comfort pouring into us empowers us to bring comfort to you. And with this comfort upholding you, you can endure victoriously the same suffering that we experience. ~ 2 Corinthians 1:4-6, TPT

I have been up all night—not because I was worried about how I will handle today. I have been up all night, because I was making some very minor revisions to my memoir. Praise Good!

It’s amazing how God had me working on my memoir, starting last night and ending early this morning. It is no coincidence that my manuscript focuses on the many times Ade and I have been separated—all our untimely farewells, including the ultimate separation.

Where Ade is concerned, his ultimate separation happened on May 2, 2017. It didn’t take this first anniversary long to get here. It really seems like Ade went home to be with the Lord just yesterday.

I couldn’t visit Ade’s earthly resting place in person, but I am definite there in Spirit. I know he knows how much I love him and miss him. Those are messages I can send from wherever I may be in this world on any given May 2^nd. Still, in my absence, I would love it if his grave is adorned with beautiful flowers that are from the family.

In addition to the flowers and the narrative that I have dedicated to Ade, I plan to look at many pictures of my son today. I am sure there will be some photos that will make me cry, but so far today I’ve only been smiling.

For this one-year anniversary of Ade’s death, I am re-posting the poem I wrote for his homegoing service’s program. As I say in my memoir, this poem captures my understanding of the God-kind of Hope He gives to parents who have lost a child. My poem is as follows:

Just Sleeping: Only Believe

Nothing in life happens by chance
Neither by accident nor happenstance;
The Fates can’t override providence
Or replace it with inevitable dominance.

Destiny may be written on some stars
But only Creator knows how long ours
Has until we are snuffed like a candle—
On the fade to black shut-eye channel.

Death brags with no reason to be proud
For he claims no life God hasn’t allowed;
Sorrows touch humans for many reasons
But He who changes times and seasons
Raises the sleeping; changes bad to good,
And upgrades His aggrieved to sainthood.

The saints who still move and still breathe
Must exercise the faith needed to believe
They’ll see their gone-home family again
Healed from all misery, illness, and pain.

Ade was 24 years old when he was diagnosed with Diabetes. From that day forward, most of his adult life was full of excruciating pain, yet he never complained. I truly am thankful to God that Ade is no longer in pain, but because on Earth grief has no expiration date my pain won’t ever end.

On this May 2, 2018, I am sending up this message on the Wings of The Dove:

I miss you, Ade. I love you, Ade. I think about you, Ade. I won’t ever forget you, Ade.

Love,

Your MOM . . . . .

P.S.

Here is a critique of my soon to be published new book, Lord willing. This book is my memoir that I plan to give the title of Untimely Farewells. The critique is as follows:

“This is a beautiful and moving story that depicts the ups and downs of a wonderful family, and the relational interactions between each member; especially between the mother and her 1^st born son. It is obvious that the mother-son relationship is of utmost importance and you do an exceptional job of painting a verbal portrait of this.

The writing is done well and the story also flows well. There is a cohesiveness and a natural flow to the content.” ~ Desireé Harris-Bonner, MBA

Managing Partner

#Spiritual Midwife for Emerging Authors

DHBonner Virtual Solutions, LLC

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Ade, changed, child-loss, crushing, dad, deceased, flipped, grieving, happy, holidays, inside out, Kwanzaa, loved ones, merry, Mom, my son, New Year, Olumuyiwa, parent, sad, Season of Giving

This is my first Season of Giving, my first Kwanzaa, and my first New Year without my oldest son, Olumuyiwa Ade Keen. He died on May 2, 2017. Not one day has gone by in which I haven’t felt his loss—a loss that constantly feels like the truckload of bricks that were dumped on me are relentlessly crushing me.

Needless to say, Ade’s death changed me. The person I thought I was instantly changed the second he died. Knowing what it means to feel the deepest sadness—the kind that flips a parent inside out—is why I will never be the way I was before I lost my son.

I confess. I am not over it.

I confess. I do not feel better.

I confess. I am still grieving.

I confess. These holidays aren’t merry for me.

I confess. These holidays aren’t happy for me.

These holidays have me thinking about all my loved ones who are no longer living on this Earth. I’m deeply missing all of them. However, it is my son that I miss most of all!

I love you, Ade! I miss you, Ade! Happy Holidays to you, my son!