Friendships don’t always end with a big fight. Sometimes, they just fade, lost to distance, silence or the quiet pull of life moving in different directions. But even when they’re gone, they linger. In a random song lyric, inside jokes that don’t make sense to anyone else, and in moments when life feels overwhelming.
Ahead of International Friendship Day, these Nigerians write letters to friends who’ve slipped away —friends they haven’t spoken to in years but still think about or wish were still here.
“You were the first person to teach me kindness”
Dear Dayo,
It’s been over 25 years since we last saw each other, but I still remember you like it was yesterday. You always shared your cabin biscuits during break time, stood up for me when class bullies tried to make me cry, and made me feel like I had a brother in school.
I’ve tried searching for you online so many times — Facebook, Instagram, even LinkedIn — but it’s like you vanished. I wish I could tell you how much your kindness meant. Life’s been tough lately. I’ve found myself wishing I had someone like you around, someone who’d stand up for me without expecting anything back.
Wherever you are, I hope life has been kind to you. You were a good person even as a child, and I can’t imagine you grew up to be anything less. Thank you for teaching me what true friendship looked like.
Sincerely yours,
Uche, 33
“I’d like our paths to cross again”
Hi O**,
How have you been? It’s been such a long time. I miss you, even though I know time and distance might make it hard for us to have what we once did.
I’m truly sorry I wasn’t there for you when your mum passed. I think about it often. Right now, it feels like our friendship has ended, but please know I still care about you deeply.
I catch myself remembering those days when we were inseparable. I know I’m not the same person you remember, and I imagine you’ve grown in your own ways too. I hope life’s been kind to you, and you’re chasing your dreams the way you always wanted.
Maybe our paths will cross again someday. I’d like that. Until then, I’m wishing you all the peace and happiness you deserve.
Yours jejely,
Dolapo, 20s
“I wish it had lasted a little longer”
Dear Adeola,
See, on a normal day, I was the kid who lived for chance moments; I’d find a trigger and lock in. But in August 2023, I graduated and didn’t know what came next. Not that I was completely lost, but I wasn’t ready for NYSC or the chaos of adult life. Life had other plans, though, and I landed a role as a social media intern at the same organisation you worked for.
I’ve never had much to be grateful for, but meeting you was different. Sometimes, it felt like we’d met in another timeline — one where we had a house, your favourite flowers in the garden, kids running around and a peaceful, happy life. Looking back now, I realise what hurts the most are the things I never said.
You showed me love, the kind I didn’t think I’d find. For someone who always felt like too much or never enough, you made me feel fully known. I remember our long talks during and after work, the banter, the rants, those DMs when someone said something funny. You made life feel lighter.
I’ll never forget that day I told you how I felt. You don’t know this, but it took seven deep sighs and mirror pep talks to get the words out. Then you said, “Ayo, what do you think my age is?” I spiralled after that. You were ten years older, but I was willing to take that leap for the one person who made me feel whole.
You called to check on me. You made me feel seen. But I don’t think I ever asked if you were okay. Maybe I was too focused on my own healing to notice your cracks.
I wish I’d done more. Said more. Appreciated you better while I had the chance. Now, you’re a memory I carry with both warmth and ache. Neither of us was perfect. But I wish we got a proper goodbye.
Always,
Ayo, 26
“You’ve stayed with me through everything”
Dear Qayum,
I still remember the last time I saw you like it was yesterday. We had just finished fighting over who should have the PlayStation console for the weekend. You know how competitive we always were. I can’t even remember who won that day, but we laughed it off as usual before heading home. I didn’t think anything of it, just one of our regular after-school routines.
I didn’t expect the next morning to change everything. My parents woke me up with the news that you were gone. An asthma attack overnight. I couldn’t process it. You were fine the day before. We were arguing and laughing. How could someone just not wake up?
I still see myself, years ago, at the burial ground. It was my first time seeing a body, and it didn’t make sense how death could come for someone so young, so full of life. I stared at you for so long, hoping you’d open your eyes and call me “Ode” like you always did. But you didn’t. You never will.
I’ve held on to little pieces of you: the PlayStation, one of your jotters from school. Some of those things have gotten lost over the years, but I can never forget you. You’ve stayed with me through everything. I graduated, got my degree, married, and I might soon be a father. I remember wishing so badly that you were the one standing by my side on my wedding day, making jokes, causing trouble like old times. It’s been so long, but I still catch myself wondering how different life would’ve been with you here.
I miss you every day. I hope you’re safe, wherever you are. I hope you’ve found peace. And I hope, one day, I get to see you again in a place where we can fight, laugh and live together, without time or life getting in the way.
For the memories we made, and the ones we never got to,
Damilola, 30
“I think you would’ve loved the woman I’m becoming”
Dear A,
Sitting down to write this was harder than I expected. You’ve been gone two years. I still find it difficult to breathe when the reality that you’re no longer here comes to me at odd times.
Having you around made life easier. I miss our late-night talks. I never thought we’d bond the way we did, but we clicked, and I’m so glad we did.
I still go back to our chats, reading your voice in the messages. It’s strange how someone can be gone but still feel so present. You made me feel seen in a way that felt quiet but true. I don’t think you knew how much your kindness meant to me or how steady you were in the chaos that was my life.
When you died, I didn’t cry immediately. It took days. I just kept saying, “I can’t believe she’s dead.” Then, one day, out by the sea, I cried. It was awful. Nothing prepares you for grief. Not even past grief.
(I actually wrote that down once, those lines. A small poem in your name. It’s not perfect, but neither was grief.)
I wish you were here now. So much has happened since you left. Things I wish I could tell you, ask you, laugh about with you. I think you would’ve loved the woman I’m becoming. I think you’d be proud. You’d roll your eyes and hug me all at once.
Losing you reminded me how fragile everything is. How friendships are important and why you should nurture them while you still have them. You were important and rare. You still are.
I carry you with me. In laughter, in silence, in softness. I hope, wherever you are, it feels like peace. And I hope you know you were loved by so many.
Still are.
With all my heart,
Princess, 20s
*Names have been changed to protect the identity of the subjects.
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