Letters to HER | Page 2 of 3

We bring to you letters written by women to women they love, miss, cherish or just remember. To celebrate the support women continue to show each other, this is #ToHER.

From: Tumininu, a woman missing her larger-than-life friend

To: Toluwalopemi, her friend in Amrika

Dear Tolu,

I wanted you to read this before you travelled, but you got to read it way earlier than planned. I loved how much you love this letter. Regardless, I’d like everyone else to read this too.

When we met for the first time in Unilag, I remember my first impression of you was, “Oh damn, she looks like DJ Cuppy.” Some of our mates said it was your braids, but everyone eventually saw the resemblance.

I can’t really paint a clear picture of you prior to when you became my sister, but I do remember you liked complimenting my breasts a lot. Yeah, you’re just weird like that. It was such a strange thing at first. But when I saw you gave random compliments like that to other people, I stopped feeling awkward. Part of my discomfort with it came from never really being able to take praise.

You became friends with my friends, and somehow, life dumped us in the same disgusting hostel the next year.

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I know a lot of people tell you this, but you really are larger than life, Tolu. Before you, I never talked much. I was always in this invisible shell, but you came and literally dragged me out of that shell. I started laughing more. I danced more. I have videos of our silly dances, bless Nofi’s soul for being there to capture the moments. I can’t help but laugh at the sight of our goofiness and utter foolishness.

I was really sad when you told me you had to travel this year (2022). I felt special about being the first out of our friends to know, but it hurt to know you’d be so far away. I miss hugging you, going to eat shawarma down the road with you. I miss walking with you, and I’ll miss going to Shop 10 together when school resumes.

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I’ll miss your presence in our room. When we became close, I was going through a rough time but spending time with you made me feel better and happier. I’ll also miss your food. Please, how will I be eating in school? How am I going to tell Mummy Aliya that Dj Cuppy has left me to go to Amrika and won’t be washing plates with her anymore?

I loved talking to you until the plane took off. I really don’t know what the rest of uni would be like without you, and I’m not ready to process that. But I wish you the very best as you start a new life. At least, you get to be with your best friend in America and eat oyinbo food.

Thank you for giving me one of the best times of my life and being my sister.

This isn’t goodbye.

❤️,

Tumi

If you’d like to write a letter #ToHER, click here to tell us why

READ ALSO: Maybe You Should Cut Your Bad Friends Some Slack? Here’s Why
We bring to you letters written by women to women they love, miss, cherish or just remember. To celebrate the support women continue to show each other, this is #ToHER.

From: Maria, a woman grieving the loss of her three daughters

To: Sapphire, Harmony and Melody, her sweet girls

Trigger Warning: This story deals with pregnancy loss and self-harm

My loves,

Sharing our story is so difficult. It hurts me physically, and I’m so weak I can’t even talk. But I have to keep going.

A year after losing Sapphire, I moved on from your father. I was still grieving but found myself wanting someone around. So I started dating again. It didn’t feel wrong because I knew I needed to move on from the past year. But the relationship was over barely six months in. He felt uncomfortable with me working with your dad. I didn’t see the issue since we’d both moved on from our marriage.

I was heartbroken all over again and mad that he didn’t trust me. And somehow, your dad was conveniently there. We had sex and pretty much got back together.

We were together for seven months before I found out I was 18 weeks pregnant with you both, Harmony and Melody. I was off my birth control when your dad and I had sex, so it wasn’t a surprise. I felt both scared and excited we had another chance. But then, I lost you both.

All I remember was ending up with your lifeless bodies in my arms after nine months of imagining your faces. Only the memories of carrying you in my belly kept me alive on my worst days after that.

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Harmony Oluwatunmininu, you! You reminded me of myself and all the stories my mum used to tell me about what I did to her while she was pregnant. Every time I felt movement, I knew it was you. You were the most active and must’ve tormented Melody. I remember seeing you slap your sister during an ultrasound. I wish I caught it on video because it’ll sound unbelievable to anyone else. But I saw you.

I planned to tell that story every single day to every single person, especially at your wedding, and be that embarrassing mother. I understand that you couldn’t live without your sister and needed to be with her. I hope you’re having fun scattering all the toys in baby heaven and frustrating all the angel nannies.

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Melody, my sweet girl. I named you Oluwatamilore after my best friend because our strength and perseverance reminded me of her. I’m sure she would’ve loved to meet you. You were the calmest twin, but I know you fought so hard to stay alive. I wish I could’ve helped you fight more. I hope you can see Harmony up there. Please give her a big hug and kiss for me.

Losing you both was hard. I had people blaming me for going back to your father. But I’d do it again if it means I could’ve been a mum today. I wish I could hold you both just one more time. I wish I could see your faces again and hear you cry. I still visit your graves, and I promise to do this as often as possible so you never feel alone.

Mummy loves you with every fibre of her being. Until we meet again, my princesses, remember that.

Forever in my heart,

Mum

If you’d like to write a letter #ToHER, click here to tell us why

ALSO READ: Everyone Quickly Moves On From Your Miscarriage Except You
We bring to you letters written by women to women they love, miss, cherish or just remember. To celebrate the support women continue to show each other, this is #ToHER.

Trigger Warning: This story deals with pregnancy loss and self-harm

From: Maria, a woman grieving the loss of her three daughters

To: Sapphire, Harmony and Melody, her sweet girls

My loves,

I miss you all so much. I have so much to say. Yet, I don’t know what to say. I’ve spent months trying to find the words. I still can’t get it right.

I’m 26 and supposed to be a mother to you three amazing girls. But I’m not. Nobody tells you about the struggles of losing a baby: the bond you form before they’re born, the feeling of knowing you’ll never see or hold them again. I found out exactly how that feels with my first loss at 23.

Sapphire, or Jesumunumidun as your grandmother fondly called you, I’m sorry I failed you as a mother.

When I met your father, I was young. At 22, I thought I’d found the man I’d spend the rest of my life with. But after a year of dating and six months of marriage, the fairytale ended. He cheated. And I was too fragile to take the news when he confessed.

RELATED: How I Caught My Ex Cheating

After that, mummy got depressed and suicidal. And my decision to overdose on Advil cost you your life, Sapphire. I should’ve fought harder, but realising your father had been with another woman was too much to bear. When I woke up in the hospital, the doctors promised we’d be okay. I believed them because I couldn’t imagine being alive without you.

April 11th — I’ll never forget the day I realised I’d never get to see you. I couldn’t feel anything at first. I didn’t know how to grieve. I’m so sorry I didn’t give you a chance to live, Sapphire. I should’ve endured the hurt and persevered through it, but I was selfish. And the guilt has eaten me up every single day. I still wish it was me and not you who had to suffer the consequences of my heartbreak.

On some days, I hold on to the eight months I had you in my belly. You know, your dad and I got married because we found out I was two months pregnant with you. You made us a family.

RELATED: 7 Things That Go Through Your Mind When You Have a Pregnancy Scare

I love to think about how happy you made me. How you moved around at the slightest sound. Your kicks when you heard your dad’s voice or mine sing. I laugh at how you made me crave ice cream even though I’m lactose intolerant. You made mummy so happy, Sapphire. And I’ll cherish those memories forever.

I hope you know there’s nothing more I wanted in life than to be your mummy. This letter isn’t perfect, but it’s the closest I can get to expressing how much I’ve missed you. You would’ve been the best big sister to Harmony and Melody. But I know you three have each other in heaven.

With all my love,

Mum

Watch out for the second part of Maria’s letter next week Sunday on #ToHER

ALSO READ: Everyone Quickly Moves On From Your Miscarriage Except You
We bring to you letters written by women to women they love, miss, cherish or just remember. To celebrate the support women continue to show each other, this is #ToHER.

From: A friend scorned by Jesus

To: Diana*, the friend who chose faith over friendship

Dear Diana,

I know you won’t like this, but I’m not writing this for you — I actually hope you don’t see this because too much time has passed to fix our friendship. Writing this letter is my way of finally letting go.

I want to start from the parts that were my fault because I blame myself for everything. When we met at university in 2013, things weren’t great at home. I didn’t know it then, but I was too emotionally dependent on everyone around me, to the point where I’d expect them to act in roles they didn’t sign for, as if they were my family members. So when we met, I placed those expectations on you. I wanted you to be the friend that made me feel safe. Someone I could call to escape the fights at home.

I never knew how to articulate my feelings in our friendship. Anytime you didn’t show up the way that I wanted, it felt like you didn’t love me. Like when our other friends talked over me because they were much older. If I could go back to 2013, I’d explain how I felt to you. I wished you stood up for me more.

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When you found God a year later, everything changed between us. We didn’t even meet up for lunch anymore. If I could go back, I’d tell you you didn’t need to cut everyone off, especially me. I found God too, you know? But when you stopped hanging out with me, it hurt me badly. Like, didn’t you remember I was also Christian?

You created an entirely new world that didn’t include me — or other friends we had — and I never stopped thinking, “Me too?” I thought you’d find a way to hold on to me. I thought I was special, considering how much time we’d spent together. But I wasn’t. You had new Christian friends.

I didn’t even realise you were dating someone at the time. For whatever reason, you hid him from us, and I’m not even sure for how long. I know I wasn’t perfect, but I tried to show up for you. I understand “setting yourself apart” when you wanted to get serious with your faith, but I think you could’ve found a balance.

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I can’t remember a lot after uni, but graduating helped our friendship. We didn’t have to see each other, so it was easier to ignore how absent you really were. At least, over the phone, we seemed to be fine.

It’s crazy how much hope I had that we’d go back to being real friends. Because of you, I joined a Christian group — I didn’t just want to be part of a Christian community; I wanted you to be in it. I took over when your friends bailed on your bridal shower though my invite had been a formality. I was too happy I’d gotten an invite to care about that.

But I couldn’t continue chasing you. I needed to free myself from the leash I’d wound around my neck and handed to you.

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After seven years of trying to make things, I accepted we needed to be on very different paths. But it wasn’t like flipping a light switch. You randomly called me in 2021 and before picking up, I found myself hoping it was for some kind of reconciliation. But of course, it was for work.

The fact that you only visited my apartment five times throughout our friendship should’ve been a sign that we were better off not being friends. Especially since you once lived only seven minutes away. And I never stopped visiting you. There was a lot more I wanted to say on that call, but there was no point.

I don’t know if you felt the way I felt on the other side of that phone. But if you’re reading this, know that I’m praying for you, always.

All my love,

Temi

ALSO READ: I Can’t Believe You Let a Boy Get Between Us
We bring to you letters written by women to women they love, miss, cherish or just remember. To celebrate the support women continue to show each other, this is #ToHER.

From: the woman who lowkey misses her university bestie

To: Leila, the bestie she lost over a breakup

I’m writing this on a plane. I’m finally leaving the trenches called Nigeria, and I wanted to say goodbye. We never really got a chance to see each other again since we finished school in 2019. And I want to finally be honest about how I’ve felt over the years. I’m going to be in a different country, so what’s the worst that can happen?

If I’m being honest, we weren’t meant to be friends. Becoming so close happened by chance because if my friend, Caleb, hadn’t been crushing on you in our first year of uni, I probably wouldn’t have noticed we were in the same class. We were over a 100, so don’t blame me. Caleb was like a best friend to me, so when you both started dating at the end of our first year, you became my friend by proxy. I didn’t have a choice.

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Don’t get me wrong, I loved you for all the reasons Caleb loved you and probably more. You were goofy, sweet, and you could relate to my obsession with The Vampire Diaries. But even with those cute things I loved about you, our arguments made it difficult to keep being friends.

When people say three is a crowd, I completely understand what they mean now. I lived it for the remaining four years of uni. First, you hated seeing me and Caleb study without you. Then, you hated him cooking for the both of us. Our arguments escalated to Caleb not treating you the same way as me. I had to take a step back at that point. There was way too much drama over one boy.

You tried to reconnect in our third year to “experience our friendship outside of me being Caleb’s friend”, in your own words. I was down for that. We slept over at each other’s hostels, did assignments together and planned every birthday together since we were born a day apart. I’d forgotten Caleb was supposed to be my best friend by our fourth year. Everything in my life was suddenly happening with you. So when you broke up after university, I didn’t expect it to affect us, especially after I gave up that friendship for you.

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But you completely shut down like I couldn’t be the friend you needed. I left messages and called; I tried everything I could to help. At some point, I had to give you the space you were silently asking for. I missed you a lot. A year went by and you didn’t even try to call me. There were so many transitions happening in my life, and I didn’t have anyone to share them with. So I didn’t feel guilty when Caleb and I became close again. You’d made your decision to be a ghost, and I accepted that.

It’s been three years since the breakup, and now, we’re saying “hellos” and “his” like the last three years didn’t happen. It’s infuriating to act like we didn’t call each other sisters at some point, Leila.

I wish a guy didn’t have so much power over our connection. Now that I’m moving away, I think it’s important to remind you that I’ll probably always love you. The shallowness our friendship has reached doesn’t change the love we shared as friends in university.

I’ll always root for you.

With all my love,

Halima

READ ALSO: I’m Tired of Being Your Supportive Friend, I Want More

If you’d like to write a letter #ToHER, click here to tell us why.
We bring to you letters written by women to women they love, miss, cherish or just remember. To celebrate the support women continue to show each other, this is #ToHER.

From: The woman who can’t believe she found love

To: Ayo, her lover

Dear Ayo,

I’m writing this letter because beyond being my lover for the last nine months, you’ve also been my friend. So many times, you look over and catch me staring at you in disbelief. I still can’t believe my luck. Well, our luck, because I’m such a catch too. Ayo, I hope you read this feeling as lucky as I do sharing our connection.

It’s been nearly nine months since I dragged myself out to meet you for drinks. The full moon was in Scorpio. That meant something to me because Twitter astrologists talk about the potency of the moon to attract lovers. I don’t necessarily believe in these things, but I didn’t want to cancel our date for the third time. I didn’t want my anxiety to get in the way again. And I’m glad I didn’t miss out on finding my best friend.

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People talk about falling in love the moment they see, but I fell in love with your voice, Ayo. The way we talked at the restaurant made me feel safe. Magic was born from hearing you speak. Your voice was warm and sweet. We very quickly became such good friends, I could have sworn I’d known you for years.

Being around you made me feel safe. You met me at a time when my polysexual ass was being kicked in my different relationships. But you stuck around and made me feel so loved. I couldn’t imagine not being more than friends with you, Ayo.

I’ve never spoken to anyone as softly as I have about you. My friends say that when I first met you, I spoke about you like air. I would rant about all my problems and end them with, “then Ayo showed up…” They could hear the peace in my voice every time. It was like I’d been holding my breath, but every time you show up, I can finally take a deep breath. I’ve never told you this, but you got me through the depression I was fighting inside. You saved me in so many ways.

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We both tend to rush into things, wanting to hold back from complicating them, but Ayo, it’s been nine months, and I’ve felt at peace with my decisions because you make me feel so loved. I remember the days leading up to the first time we both said “I love you” aloud. It was perfect because we spent weeks trying not to move too fast.

My favourite part about living with you is our routines. They keep me sane because. I can’t remember what life was like before watching you cook for us after work, or planning cute dates together. I don’t know what it felt like listening to music without you or watching you wiggle every time we sit on the couch to eat. Those are the moments when I feel most alive.

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Most of all, I love how you depend on me. The way you rush in for a hug whenever I’m home. You talk about your day like you’ve been waiting for the one person who truly cares about you, and it makes me feel like the most important person in the world. Ayo, I could go on and on about how my polysexual ass loves doing life with only you, but the hundred “I love yous” we share daily say it all.

My final words to you are a rendition of the love Shakespeare’s Romeo meant for Juliet: All the things I love about you, Ayo — the sweet words that I have the privilege to share with you — hopefully, it’s until my last breath.

Thank you for all the love you’ve brought into my life.

Love,

Uyi

ALSO READ: Love Life: I Ran Away From Home To Be With Her

If you’d like to write a letter #ToHER, click here to tell us why.
We bring to you letters written by women to women they love, miss, cherish or just remember. To celebrate the support women continue to show each other, this is #ToHER.

From: A woman finally learning self-love

To: Stephanie, herself

Dear Stephanie,

I’m writing this because I want you to know you deserve to feel beautiful every day. This year hasn’t been great for you. You’ve struggled with your identity and failed at friendships, family and school, and I know it’s been tough. The saddest part is that you’ve been on this spiral for quite some time.

But I want you to know that I’m proud of you. I know the self-doubt started in JSS 1 when the school dormitories were burnt down. You used to be been in Yellow House, but after the fire, no one could stay there everyone needed to move. And that’s how you ended up in Red House. You were always bullied, so you expected the worst from trying to fit in all over again, but the rejection from the Red House captain wasn’t something you’d planned for. And she wasn’t even bothered when you went back to complain. You couldn’t understand why you were suddenly unwanted; everyone just pushed you around until other seniors joined in to laugh. the bullying got worse over time and the self-hate started to set in.

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By SS 2, nothing had changed so you thought something was wrong with you. ”I’m not as pretty as the other girls,” you thought. ”It’s because my face is covered with pimples” Or, ”Why don’t I have nice clothes like them?” You compared yourself to the other girls and wished they would like you.

I wish you trusted that you were enough.

The moments you allowed yourself to feel beautiful were quickly ruined. Like when that boy called you ugly because of your acne and scars in December last year [2021]. I wish you didn’t allow a silly boy to ruin the confidence you worked so hard to build again after high school. You were finally starting to love yourself again, Stephanie, so what happened? Now, you’ve spent every day since that snarky comment believing that the beauty you felt this year was in your head.

RELATED: 7 Nigerian Women Talk About Living With Low Self-Esteem

Self-love won’t happen overnight, but I want you to read this whenever you doubt that you’re enough and remember how you felt in this moment writing to yourself. Stephanie, your smile lights up a room anytime you walk in. The dimple on your left cheek makes it impossible not to stare. I love your entire head of hair when it’s messy and when your edges are laid. I love your fingers and how perfect your nails look. Since April, I’ve taken every day to admire every part of you, so please don’t let anyone ruin this journey.

You aren’t the girl you were in high school, and I forgive you for holding onto her for so long. I know you were sad, hurt and angry, but the past is the past. Stephanie, I love you for all that you are. Please be patient with yourself on this journey.

With all my love,

Stephanie

ALSO READ: 10 Things That Count As Self Care For Women

If you’d like to write a letter #ToHER, click here to tell us why
We bring to you letters written by women to women they love, miss, cherish or just remember. To celebrate the support women continue to show each other, this is #ToHER.

LETTER 1

To: The mum who makes it easy to open up.

Maami, I could go on and on about how caring, amazing and sweet you are, but one thing I love is how easygoing our relationship is. From gist about my boyfriend to everything about school, you always find a way to know exactly what’s going on without invading my privacy. It makes me know how much you trust me to live my life. I love how I can tell you anything without being criticised. Thank you for letting me be myself.

Also, thank you for putting up with my shenanigans like hugging you every chance I get. You always tell me to save it for my boyfriend, but in the end, I always get that hug. Thank you for your love, maami. There are no words to describe how irreplaceable it feels to have you around each day. I pray that you’ll always be here for me, maami.

Love,

M

LETTER 2

To: The mum who needs to feel beautiful again

I’m no longer home to protect you, but I want you to read this knowing that I’ll always be one phone call away.

Our relationship is complicated because I’ve never understood why you didn’t walk away from my dad. I hated the nights you woke me up crying, and the early mornings you spent hiding blisters. I thought you deserved more… I still do. I’m writing this because I’ve never said that out loud.

I hope you know that everything I do is for you. I want to be able to give you the life I know you deserve. I want you to travel, see the world. I want to take away the responsibility you feel to keep your crumbling marriage together for me because mum, I’m okay. I want you to be okay too.

Actually, I want you to remember the girl you once were. The woman I see in pictures, with her afro and a wide smile. I want to see the woman that looked like she had the time of her life in the pictures stacked in your side drawers. I know you stare at them sometimes. I want you to read this and remember that it’s not too late to pack up and leave. Not for me, but for yourself.

Being away makes me feel guilty. But even from a thousand miles, I’ll make sure you get your favourite moimoi for lunch today. I know it’ll make you happy not to worry about food, so I’ll grant your silent wish to lay in bed all day. I love you no matter what you choose. All I need you to remember is that you are beautiful and loved, always.

Happy Mothers’ Day, mummy.

I’m signing this letter with my pet name because I’ll never let you call me that out loud.

Yours always,

Bum Bum

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LETTER 3

To: The mum who’s forever my guardian angel

Mum, it’s mothers’ day again, and I can’t help but think of you, mum. You were my angel. I mean you still are, but now, you’re my guardian angel.

I’ve searched and searched for the words to write, and I keep coming up with empty pages. Not because we didn’t share any beautiful memories, but because there are so many, I can’t find where to start.

You were the type of person who cared for everyone. Thinking about how you stressed over deworming my siblings and me as kids makes me smile. You also loved to talk and tell us many stories any chance you got. Most times, you repeated those stories until we got tired and reminded you that we’ve heard that one already. You were and are still a gem to us, mum.

There’s not a single day that I do not think about you. It’s inevitable. Sometimes, my thoughts are happy ones, and other times, they’re sad, but they remind me that no one can ever take your place in my life.

I could go on and on about you, but I’ll need more than a million words. Sometimes, you would really get me upset, but you could never stay away too long. You’d go, “Amaaaa,” and I’d know you were ready to apologise and make me smile again. You were the sweetest soul.

This is a note to you, mum, from the bottom of my heart. I love you and I miss you so much. I can feel you every day. Some days, I question whether you’re really with us, and then, I get a sign that you are and always will be.

I’ll revel in the fact that I know you miss us too. Happy Mothers’ Day to you, my angel.

Yours always,

Ama

RELATED: My Mum And I Are Best Friends But I Have A Secret I Can’t Tell Her

LETTER 4

To: The mum who we’ll always have the same arguments with

Like every good mother, you’d raze down any building for your children, but what I really love about you is how you handle our misunderstandings. It’s like there’s a telepathic law that guides us, telling us there’s a line not to cross.

People would probably say you’re my mother, and we have no choice but to reconcile. It may be true, but regardless, I love how we find our way back to each other. One weird thing I love is driving you to places. You’d complain about every move I make even though I’m sure it has nothing to do with me because I’ve been driving since 2014. “Ah, Ayo. Watch that Okada man o”, “Ah Ayo. Trailer is at our back. Will you park?” you’d complain. My response will always be the same. Abike: Oya, come and drive.

We’ll probably have this conversation many times, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Happy Mothers’ Day.

With all my love,

Fiks

LETTER 5

To: The sweet mum with the best conversations

Hey Mama.

I thought about you last week. About all the small and big ways you influenced my life and carried our family. I don’t think one note does justice to it at all.

I love how you took care of me. Remember when I got my small sewing machine? It made sense to me then, but you thought it was a waste of money. Yet, months later, you drove me to a tailor’s shop where you arranged for me to learn how to sew. Oh mummy, I miss you so much.

I miss our fights. I miss our random conversations in the kitchen. How you’d always tell me that all men wanted to see was my nakedness. I’d roll my eyes and laugh in my head because I also wanted to see their nakedness. Sometimes, we’d have heated feminist conversations, and you’d tell me how this world is unfair to women, especially this part of the world, and we have to adjust likewise. I’d disagree, but I miss those moments for us. I want one last conversation with you.

I miss your presence every day. How you’d always call me at the peak of any iniquities. I could be doing something you wouldn’t approve of, and you’d randomly call to ask, “Where are you?“ You were always right on time with those calls.

I hate that this world had to take you away when it did. I hate it so much. Your last gift to me was on my 25th birthday last year. That memory sticks in my head till today. You casually walked into my room and handed me the perfume set Daddy gifted you. You mentioned how much you loved that set and had held onto it for a long time.

This is my first Mothers’ Day since you left, and a lot of things don’t make sense without you. I just want to say I love and miss you. Thank you for everything you did for me. I’ll never forget.

Happy Mothers’ Day, Mama 💛

With Love,

K

ALSO READ: I Still Haven’t Found a Better Gist Partner, Mum
We bring to you, letters written by women to women they love, miss, cherish or just remember. To celebrate the support women continue to show each other, this is #ToHER.

From: The woman who thinks she’s the favourite niece

To: Meye, her best aunt

Dear Aunty Meye,

I want you to read this knowing how much I love you. Going months without talking to you because of a silly fight made me realise how much I need you in my life. It would kill me if I ever found out something happened to you in the middle of our pointless silence. But knowing us, it’ll probably happen again, so here’s a letter to remind you how much I love you, even when I ignore your calls.

One thing you always say to me is how alike we are, and maybe that’s what’s kept us connected for so long. When I was a kid, you understood my tantrums too well. You knew how to calm me down and get me to use my words rather than yell. There were times you’d spank me for those blow-ups, especially when we were in public, but you’d come back to hug me before I cried. I think that sums up our relationship; one minute you’re calling me your baby elephant, then we’re suddenly at war, and the next minute, we’re cuddled up again.

It was easy for anyone to think you were my mum because of how present you were in my life. My mum was your eldest sister, and you were 16, so you stayed with us after school to take care of me when she was away. On some days, you’d tell me you wish you had more time to be a teenager rather than my nanny. I know you never say it out of spite, but I hear you when you express how much time went by in your life.

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My words can’t compensate for the time, but I want you to know you gave me love that I’ll always be grateful for. When people thought I talked too much, you listened to me. You answered a million questions I asked and waited for the multiple more I had. Thank you for singing to me when I couldn’t fall asleep at night. Now that I’m older, I know it was to distract me whenever my parents were fighting. Thank you for loving me like your child, Aunty Meye.

When I was 13 and you moved to Canada for school, I spent weeks adjusting to your absence. Nothing hurt more than the days I woke up needing encouragement when my parents fought. I needed your hugs. Still, thank you for being one phone call away no matter how busy you were. Going back to uni for another degree in your 30s must’ve been hard, but I’m proud you weren’t afraid to try. Thank you for encouraging me to get mine too, whenever you called — even though it led to our fight in March [2022].

I’m sorry for our stupid fight. We’d gone back and forth on moving to Canada for my master’s degree. You’ll never admit it, but I know it was also for us to be close to each other again. I wanted that too, but I just didn’t want Canada. I wasn’t even sure what I wanted. I just needed you to trust that I had it under control. But like an African aunty, you were worried about my future.

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I understood you only wanted a better life for me. A soft life, actually. I was only angry you were acting like everyone else and hounding me about going to school. You’d call it tough love, but I expected you to be on my side. That’s why I ghosted you for months. I was hurt that you didn’t believe in me, and at the same time, I was sad that I’d disappointed you.

When I found out you were sick, I knew the silence wasn’t worth it. I’d never forgive myself for not taking your calls or responding to your texts. I’d probably stare at them every day if you ended up gone. You are my favourite aunt, and I know I’ll always be your favourite niece.

We’ll probably have another fight in about two months, but by then, I’ll be closer to Canada, so we can settle it in person. Until then, read this letter and admit that you missed my endless questions and gist.

With all my love,

Ebere

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We’re bringing to you letters written by women to women they love, miss, cherish or just remember. To celebrate the support women continue to show each other, this is #ToHER.

From: The woman who’d tired of playing the supportive friend

To: Christiana, the friend she wants back

Dear Christiana,

We started out as acquaintances but ended up being as close as sisters. So thinking about how we grew distant still hurts. I’m writing this letter in the hopes that you’d read it and want to be friends again or at least try.

Before we met, I felt out of place in my class. I’d been trying to get into uni through diploma classes, but I ended up not getting the course I wanted. None of my old friends was in my new class and I didn’t know how to make new friends. It was easier sneaking in and out of every lecture, to say “hi” to my old friends. instead But all of that changed when I finally noticed you in class.

I still wonder how I’d never seen you until that day you rushed into class late. Maybe it was the huge tote bag you carried or the way you walked in. I instantly wanted to be friends but I didn’t know-how. So imagine my joy when I realised we had some mutual friends. I hung out with them more to get closer to you because I wanted you to notice me. I even started staying after lectures to feature in every conversation you were in. That’s how much I wanted our friendship.

After a few weeks, we moved in the same circles. We laughed at the same jokes and yabbed lecturers too. It was great seeing that warm and friendly side of you. We’d never hung out without our group of friends, but I considered you my friend already. Close enough for me to call you Christy. I thought you felt that connection too until things changed three years later.

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That year came with pressure. We were in our final year and everyone wanted to graduate with good grades. It had a way of making people distant. But for us, the pressure only brought us closer. While other classmates struggled to get me to tutor them, I gave you unbridled access to me and my brain. I really did care about you. I’d text almost every day asking about your weak points and offering pictures of my notes and explanations. We were tight, Christy. What changed?

Beyond preparing for our final exams, I supported everything you did. When you started your pastry business, I supported you like family. I told everyone about you, bought cakes from you when I could — I did everything. You talked about how grateful you were for my support. You felt I had your back and it brought us closer. So again Christy, what changed?

Immediately after our final exam, you became distant. I thought I’d done something wrong, but you wouldn’t text me back when I asked what the problem was. Then I’d see your Whatsapp stories with cakes and doughnuts while you left our chat unread. It hurt going from talking every day to barely texting each other. Actually, I couldn’t believe it happened.

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You see Christy, I was used to being rejected when I asked anyone to be my friend. You were the one person that didn’t turn me down. So understand when I say that the distance between us hurt. We read in several lecture halls, cracked jokes in between, cooked and shared food together. I was happy and you were all I talked about. Even my boyfriend was tired of hearing about Christy. Losing that bond between us didn’t make sense to me.

Christiana, I’ll spare you the narration because I’m sure you remember the rest. If you ever read this, please know that I mourn the fact that our friendship ended. I don’t just want to comment “Well done” on every pastry you post. I want to be real friends again, not just “Mary, the supportive woman” to you.

But if nothing changes, know that I still think of you as my friend.

Yours,

Mary

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