Do you really ‘get over’ the death of someone you love? Grief goes beyond weeping at a funeral. Sometimes, it’s in texting a number that will never reply, avoiding your own birthday, or wondering if you’re even allowed to mourn someone you barely knew.
In a society where you’re expected to ‘be strong’ and ‘move on quickly,’ many Nigerians carry grief quietly. We spoke to six Nigerians who’ve lost someone they deeply loved. They open up about the different ways grief continues to shape their lives.
“Eating, sleeping, and even breathing is difficult” — *Adam, 29
*Adam was planning to propose to his girlfriend when she died of leukaemia. Months later, grief has changed everything from his work life to his family.
“She died in December 2024. We knew she was sick, but the news still felt like a slap. I wasn’t even there. I had taken a job in Port Harcourt, and she was in Ibadan. If I could turn back time, I wouldn’t have taken that job. I’d give anything to have been by her side.
I remember the exact feeling when her sister called —the buzzing in my ears, and how everything froze. I was going to propose on my next visit and had started looking at rings. Now, I feel guilty doing anything. Eating, sleeping, and even breathing is difficult. Life feels colourless.
I couldn’t concentrate at work and had to take leave. When I told my parents I was taking time off, my dad said, ‘Are you the first person to lose a girlfriend?’ I was so mad. We had a huge fight and haven’t spoken since. It feels like a part of me died with her, and it’s not coming back.”
“I don’t have the right to grieve him” — *Farida, 25
*Farida’s father battled a mental illness for over a decade. She expected to feel relief after his death. Instead, the guilt hit harder than she expected.
“My dad’s illness was mostly mental. From when I was 14, he was just a physical presence. It felt like parts of him — his mind and personality – had died years ago.
My mum had to be both wife and caregiver while raising us. She didn’t hire help because she feared society would judge her. She did it all by herself. I sometimes wished for my dad’s passing just so my mum could catch a break. When he did, I thought I’d feel free, but I didn’t.
I was overwhelmed with guilt. It felt like I killed him with my thoughts.
Sometimes, I feel like I’ve lost the right to grieve him, but I cry regardless. I don’t think that grief will ever stop.”
“I fear I’ll forget her face one day” — *Zoe, 24
*Zoe lost her mother at a young age. Years later, the pain still feels raw. She’s just learned to live with it quietly.
“Everyone says time heals, but I don’t think that’s true. I’ve just learned to nurture the wound so it doesn’t ache every day.
My mum died when I was young, and to this day, I still imagine her walking into the room and saying it was all a prank.
The hardest part of losing her is the loneliness. I never got to talk to anyone about things girls are meant to share with their mums — my period, crushes, or even just how I was feeling. I was expected to just keep going, and I did. Most people don’t even know I’ve lost a parent. I feel like our society doesn’t really support grieving people, and I don’t want to burden anyone.
I still cry myself to sleep sometimes. I’m scared I’ll forget her face. I wouldn’t say I’ve healed, but I keep myself going by living a life she’d be proud of.”
“I miss the future I’ll never have with him” — *Dan, 28
People say time heals, but for *Dan, grief has only grown more complicated with age.
“I lost my dad when I was 11. My mum did her best, but there were things I missed, especially as a boy. There were conversations only a father could have with his son, and I didn’t get those.
I miss him, and I miss what our future together could have looked like. I also grieve the past. Sometimes, I pass by where he used to work and feel this wave of longing I can’t explain.
People expected me to ‘step up’ after he died. They didn’t say it outright, but it was implied. That pressure made me grow up too fast. Even now, I still compare my friends’ dads to him. Sometimes, I catch myself wishing they were my dad, or that they’d met him. My dad and I shared a birthday, but since his demise, I find it hard to celebrate., That day just reminds me of a hole in my chest that’ll never be filled.”
“I still reach for my phone to call her” — *Ifeoma, 45
*Ifeoma reconnected with her mother as an adult, only to lose her again a few years later.
“I didn’t grow up with my mum. We reconnected 25 years later, after university, and she quickly became my everything— my confidant and gist partner.
After I got married, she would visit and notice things I missed, like the house help stealing from me. Her presence made a big difference.
When she died, it felt like fate stole her from me a second time. We only spent eleven years together. At first, I didn’t feel the absence because we lived in different cities. But months later, I realised she was the one person who could be honest with me. Sometimes, I forget and reach for my phone to call her. Bad things would happen to me and I’d think, ‘If only my mum were here’.
After her death, a lot of people came to visit and pray with me. I was grateful, but the comfort was temporary. Once they left, the emptiness returned. I look at my children and miss her even more.”
“I cry in the bathroom when no one’s watching” — *Sylvie, 23
Like most mother-daughter relationships, *Sylvie’s relationship with her mum was rocky. Still, nothing prepared her for how the loss would change her.
“My mum and I had this love-hate kind of relationship. But losing her left a void I didn’t expect, and it shows up more often than I’d like to admit.
I became hyper-independent and overly emotional. I cry often — in the bathroom, during prayer, even over minor inconveniences. Her death also made me socially withdrawn. I left social media and got triggered by the simplest things —hymns, TikTok videos, or a line from a sermon. I still talk about her all the time, sometimes without even realising. I have accepted that my grief won’t end. I’m no longer shattered, but I’m still not whole.”
How to Live With Grief Without Losing Yourself
We asked Oghenetega Esiekpe, a counselling psychologist, to explain how to live through grief, one day at a time.
1. Feel everything without shame
“Grief is not a defect or weakness. It is the unresolved love you carry with you,” Esiekpe says.
Sadness, guilt, anger, or numbness, they’re all valid reactions, and you should let yourself feel them. Don’t try to ‘snap out of it’ or pretend you’re fine. Feeling pain or hurt is a natural reaction to loss, and it serves as evidence of love and acceptance.
Esiekpe says guilt is one of the most misunderstood parts of grief. “It shows up when you think you didn’t do enough, or feel relief after someone’s suffering ends. But that relief only means you’re human.” There is no one way to grieve, and you don’t need perfect memories to feel loss.
2. Create small, daily rituals that help you stay grounded
Healing or accepting the loss of a loved one does not happen overnight; it takes small and intentional steps to help one move along.
“Have a routine check-in with yourself, probably at the end of each day. Ask yourself how you feel today. Write down one thing you miss, one thing you remember, or one thing you’re still angry about,” she suggests.
Daily rituals like having a phone call or even gardening can help you reconnect to life in a way that gradually heals you.
3. Don’t ghost your relationships. Be honest
Grief makes your other relationships feel exhausting, even though they are a big part of healing. That doesn’t mean you need to perform happiness. Esiekpe advises, “Let people know you still value their presence. When a friend checks in, consider saying, ‘I don’t have the words to express how I feel right now, but I appreciate you checking on me.’. “
If talking is hard, she suggests other alternatives: watch a movie with friends and family, revisit memories with someone who knows the dearly departed, or simply sit in silence with someone who cares. These are healthy ways to maintain bonds without the pressure to shut down or put on an act.
4. Set boundaries, especially with people who mean well, but hurt you
Like *Adam’s father, People will say the wildest things when you’re grieving. Esiekpe says it’s okay to block that out.
“Consider saying, ‘I appreciate your concern, but I’m not ready for this conversation,’ or ‘I’d prefer to be alone right now.’ Boundaries are a way for you to protect your peace while you heal.”
5. Grief doesn’t disappear
If it’s been months or years and the pain still feels raw, you’re not broken. You’re just grieving honestly.
“Some losses reshape us forever,” Esiekpe says. “The goal isn’t to move on from them, but to move forward while carrying the memory.”
It helps to remember that your loved one would want you to be happy. Living fully can be your way of honouring and celebrating them.
6. Grieve privately, protect publicly
In Nigeria, where we fervently uphold the principle of ‘life must go on’, people expect you to be ‘strong’. It’s okay to mourn for a short while, but you shouldn’t dwell on the loss.. Esiekpe encourages a different approach: “Grieve privately, protect publicly.”
That means finding small moments to cry, feel, or process. It could be in the car, at lunch, or before you go to bed. Don’t let others rush your healing. You have to heal the way your heart needs.
Bottom line
Remember, how you grieve is an indicator that you loved and were loved. It’s not just a ‘phase’ in life, but a lifelong companion that reshapes how you see the world. Let it change you gently and guide you back to living fully again.
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