Hey Dad,
If anyone had told me I'd be sitting here today writing a tribute to you (at this stage of my life), I would have shut down the thought immediately. In my mind, you still had so much gas left in the tank, so much more to do and to give. But God knows best, and here I am, faced with the reality of your exit from this world.
You were not just my father—you were a pillar in every sense. A frontrunner, a general, a man whose life impacted everyone who had the privilege of knowing you. And as I think about you, these words stand tall:
A Man of Unflinching Integrity — Dad, your honesty was never in question. You lived by principle, even when it was not convenient. You never compromised on your integrity, and you taught us—by word and by deed—that anything that could soil one's name was non-negotiable. That was your compass, and it has become mine.
A Giver to the Very End — You lived the scripture, "It is better to give than to receive." Giving was not something you did occasionally; it was your lifestyle. You poured yourself out—your resources, your time, your heart—into causes and people you believed in. Many may never fully know the extent of your sacrifice, but we do.
A Leader from the Front — You never played the role of an onlooker. You were always at the forefront—whether as a father, a mentor, a friend, or a servant of God. You bore burdens, carried responsibilities, and gave yourself unreservedly to the visions you believed in. To you, leadership wasn't a title, it was service.
A Prayer Champion — Prayer was your language. We grew up proud that our dad could pray—long, fervent, unshaken prayers that moved mountains. You didn't just tell us to pray; you showed us how. And when illness came, and you could no longer pray as you used to, it shook us deeply. It reminded us how much of a backbone your prayers were in our lives.
A Disciplinarian and Mentor — Dad, you didn't suffer fools. You demanded excellence, attention to detail, respect, responsibility, and service. Everyone who passed through your care—whether as family, friend, or spiritual child—came out better, sharper, more disciplined. You stretched us, but it was always in love.
A True Patriarch — You were the mighty oak tree of our family—nuclear and extended. A place of strength, succour, and guidance. Through God, you were woven into the success stories of countless lives, often without asking for anything in return. Your absence leaves a vacuum no one else can fill.
A General with Scars — True generals are not defined by the absence of scars, but by how they carry them. You had your scars, but you bore them with grace and strength. Many may never have noticed, because you carried them while still pressing forward, winning battles, and lifting others along the way. That's the mark of a true general. Dad, your departure hurts deeply- oh yes, it does- but so does the legacy you've left fill us with pride. You've fought well, you've lived well, and you've left footprints we can only aspire to walk in.
Sleep well, Dad. Your race is done, but your light will never fade from our hearts.