October 2024 was meant to mark a new beginning. I had just defended my school project, officially stepping into life as a graduate. Around the same time, my younger sister secured a job. It felt like everything was finally aligning. With renewed hope, we both left our city, heading home to share the good news with family.
Then, in a matter of seconds, everything almost ended.
We were passengers in a commercial bus. I remember chatting casually with a friend on WhatsApp, even joking that the bus we were in had no brakes. It was registered under Rivers Joy, but almost nothing about it felt right. The vehicle overheated at some point and we had to stop so the driver could pour water on the engine. Fear crept in. Some passengers decided they had seen enough and turned back.
I didn’t.
I chose optimism over caution and got back into the bus.
Less than ten seconds before chaos broke loose, I sent my friend one last message: “Life is good.”
Moments later, the bus began to move in a terrifying zigzag. Panic exploded. I saw passengers jump out. I saw my own sister jump out. Everything happened so fast, yet those seconds replay in my head with frightening clarity.
That morning, I woke up healthy. I had plans. I had dreams. I was a graduate, alongside my younger sister, with a future that looked bright and promising. I couldn’t wait to get home.
Surviving that accident changed something deep inside me.
Every time I hear about someone passing on, it forces me to reflect. I’ve witnessed and heard of shocking losses over the years, and they taught me one thing: life must be lived with deep gratitude. That is why I celebrate my birthdays loudly. Not necessarily with long posts, but with genuine joy. Achievements or not, life itself is worth celebrating.
I have stood helpless in the face of death before. But I was rescued. By God’s grace, I lived.
Still, the truth remains uncomfortable: many things around us make survival harder than it should be. A lot is broken in this country, and too often, negligence and poor systems cost people their lives.
Earlier today, while scrolling through LinkedIn, I came across the news of the passing of Lucky Elohor. It hit hard. The pain felt personal, especially from the perspective of someone who believes deeply in optimism.
Optimistic people often say, “We’ll be fine.” We rarely panic, even in chaos. But death does not consult optimism. It comes unplanned, on days no one prepares for.
Today, Nigeria mourns another successful creative. Just weeks ago, it was someone else. Years ago, it was Dr. Chinelo, shot on a train. Another life lost to a snake bite. Over and over again, the nation mourns.
These losses are no longer distant headlines. They are reminders.
Take care of yourself.
Love yourself.
Life is not all that it promises to be—but it is all we have.
Written by Favour Adindu (via Facebook)