Beloved Sister Elizabeth Folasade Oshodi, your ascension to Glory with the Supreme Almighty has left our clan with an irredeemable gap that your essence and personality-filled. You had a uniquely palpable influence in all our lives that all of us your siblings shall reflect upon individually.
These are the memories. And as with the reality of living, memories are like peaks and valleys. Most high, and others low. Punctuated by your indomitable spirit never to give up.
For me, you were my little sister which I've always had a natural instinct to protect. And for another one of us, Mickey; was inscrutably your 6th birthday present. At the time you made big brother not forget - until mum asked you if you could change his nappy - no, just kidding, you were so enthusiastic and didn't prick little brother with a safety pin either.
Many years before this though, when you were a little over one year old, mum as usual, let me push you in the pram while we were on a walk. But as a twitchy five-year-old, I began to trot from a walk. And as I did this, you got excited and seem to enjoy it, and the trot turn into a run. To my chagrin, I lost control of the pram, and it almost tipped over. That day, mum demonstrated her best table tennis topspin on the back of my head, and I never dared to run with you in the pram again. You always wanted to play with me and my friends. When you were about four years old, my neighborhood friend Desmond Dye came over for us to go cycling around. But as we took off from our house, in wanting to do anything I was doing, you ran after us and paid me no mind when I stopped and admonished you to go back home. Hours later, when I got back home, mum ask where you were, and I told her that I sent you back home. At that same moment, we both realized that you didn't come home, and you were out there by yourself. In a panic, mum looked around the neighborhood to no avail, and frustrated we finally went to the local Police station, and as we walked in, there you were being cared for with dried tears streaking down your cheeks. On seeing me and mum - you let out the most gleeful exclamation of Mummy!!! - that I can feel rigging in my ears today. Luckily, I didn't get clout across the back of my head this time. Ahhh...memories of growing up in Cambridge. And I could go on with many more as we all can as we fondly remember you.
Years later, as we're all grown up, pursuing our individual lives and evolution, you remained that constant beacon of strength and character. Indeed, becoming a mother figure to all of us; literally doling out equal parts praise, prayer, and chiding, which often had the net effect of being a catalyst to assisting us to get through times of a negative reversal of fortunes, which we all of us experience from time to time.
And you have laid that indelible mark of your indomitable spirit in my mind forever, as your last words to me were: Fred, I'm okay, don't worry, I'm going to be okay... And I went from being the protective brother to the protectee, along with your reassurance that in my moment of helplessness, I shouldn't despair, that you had the faith you were going to be okay.
They say there's a silver lining even in the midst of strife, sorrow, and adversity. And so as we grieve the loss of our Beloved Sister, let's hold on and console ourselves with the memories, and that indomitable spirit you exemplified to persevere, regardless of circumstances we can all face in this mortal realm of humanity.
Rest In Power with the Supreme Almighty Beloved Sister. You remain endearingly in our thoughts...

Fredrick Oshodi