I had no more tears left to cry when I lost my mum four years ago. Prior to her demise, she’d been bedridden for a year and even though I hoped otherwise, I knew the end was near. Those days at the Lagos University Teaching Hospital (LUTH), she lost her speech, and the only way we could connect was through music.
We had a routine. I’d plug my pods in her ears, select a song and watch her attempt to hum the familiar gospel melodies and trending afrobeat songs. It was both beautiful and sad.
She…