As Lent ends, 2026, it triggers the memory of my loss on Easter Monday 2025

The Lenten season this year came straight after Ramadan, and expectedly, after these two important lengths of days, we are all supposed to be better persons. If you were quarrelsome before the Lenten period and Ramadan, fasting both from food and from the habit should make you less angry, more sedate and more accommodating. Lent is beyond fasting from food; it’s about charity, penance, prayers and almsgiving. It is about behavioural changes and your ability to go through life renewed, refreshed and ready to be more empathetic. Sometimes we cannot see what someone is going through, and we are quick to judge. Yes, we meet people in our lives who drive us insane, but every time we have paused to introspect, like during the Lenten season, let us remember that “everyone has sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.” “Lent and Ramadan are periods of grace, where we get another chance to redeem ourselves. Nobody said it would be easy; restitution is not easy, and we all seek mercy from God.

As this year’s Lenten season ended and we entered the holy week, which brought us to the resurrection of Christ at Easter, let us be mindful of what we have left behind us, habits that can hurt another, which we have shed, and focus on the better version of ourselves. Always, we are hopeful that our shortcomings are now shorter or now non-existent. It is my prayer and hope that it’s another year to make those promises to those who are not as privileged as we are, people who need help or people who just need a smile. Let us offer these things, a little kindness, just to make the world brighter from wherever we are.

And talking about brightness and smiles that make other people happy, this year’s Easter Monday brought to the fore the loss that destabilised me and rendered me near speechless at the same time last year. As the day broke, we received news of the passing of Pope Francis, and as the day drew to an end, my bright-as-a-spark sister, Mrs Maryanne Asuku, nee Amodu, drew her last breath. It was truly devastating for me, watching the days turn into nights and the nights turn into days. I mourned with my fellow Catholic faithful and the rest of the world for a truly humanitarian and much-beloved world leader, himself a man of great smiles and humility, but within our family, we mourned my sister, Maryanne, who lights up a room just by her entrance.

Maryanne was number four in the family. She was a curious child, friendly and warm, and had arrived in the world through precipitated labour. My mum, a hospital matron and midwife who should have known, had no inkling that Maryanne was coming and had her at home before proceeding to the hospital. In a hurry, Maryanne arrived ahead of her time and was forward-looking and in a hurry to get things done all her life. Her smile was infectious, and her laughter was a childlike giggle. Of my numerous siblings, Mary remained one of the closest to me. We shared laughter, we shared pain and we shared many celebrations. Maryanne was as tough as she was vulnerable and was badly hit many years ago when our mother passed. Inconsolable, she sat still for days staring at the skies and ceilings. A mother hen, she shielded her husband and children with all her might. There for everyone, a fighter for justice, a truly formidable younger sister.

I wailed, I gritted my teeth, I stared into skies and ceilings. How could this be? How can such a person with so much brightness, so much warmth and the greatest infectious laughter be gone? Sister, she would say, eyes large and curious, let’s go and eat. I brought Suya when she visited late at night, and between mouthfuls of suya, shaved onions and diced cabbage, we would sit on the carpet in my home and fall about laughing. When I visited her at home, she would retreat to her cellar, looking for the best drinks to entertain her big sister. We would chat late into the night until I chased her, or if it were her home, until I stood up reluctantly to head home. Maryanne was fierce but gentle as a mid-morning drizzle, giving, kind and a breath of fresh air.

As Easter Monday beckoned this year, I remembered every moment of her funeral service, my eyes misty with tears. I remembered her interment, her husband, children and siblings as they stood around the graveside, her family and her friends. I remember my sister every day since she passed last year. Anything can bring on the memories. A cursory look at pictures from my son’s wedding, where she was everywhere; her elder brother’s birthday lunch at my home; the pictures; her granddaughter’s first birthday, where she insisted that I stand next to her for a photograph.

You, Maryanne Oiza Asuku, nee Amodu, were a phenomenal woman.

We all miss you, but we know where our loved ones go. What a day to go… Easter Monday. I am thankful for Easter Monday because of its powerful symbolism, but I am also thankful for your life, Maryanne. Our prayers are with your children and your spouse. It’s been a year, but we still pinch ourselves.

May your gentle soul rest in peace… Amen