DISCLAIMER: This is a true life story and I write it with trembling fingers and a heavy heart
I didn’t know the last time I saw him… was the last time.
I changed schools in JSS1… (as was a family custom)
New environment. New faces. New everything.
And then I met him.
Jonathan Daniels (not his real name).
Jonathan was… different.
Not in a bad way.
Just… different.
He had an English first name.
An English surname.
Till today, I don’t even know what state he was from.
But somehow, none of that mattered.
Because from the moment we clicked… we really clicked.
Jonathan wasn’t just my friend.
He was my person.
He was my brother
The kind of friend that doesn’t need effort.
The kind that just connects.
He came to my house.
Not many people did.
Just him… and maybe one other guy.
Everyone knew.
If you saw me, you saw Jonathan.
If you saw Jonathan, you saw me.
We were like that.
Jonathan… fantastic baller and short. So I used to tease him a lot.
Jonathan had something about him.
Something I didn’t fully appreciate then.
He was honest.
Brutally honest.
The kind of honest that would annoy you.
He would look at me and say:
“Eromosele, you didn’t brush today.” (Mind you this was JS1 stroke JS2)
And I’d get angry.
Defensive.
Embarrassed.
“Guy, what’s wrong with you?”
But he wouldn’t take it back.
He would just stand there.
Certain.
Now?
I would give anything… to hear him say that again.
Anything.
JSS3.
First day.
I walked into school like every other day.
Normal.
Nothing special.
Then people started saying:
“Sorry…”
I was confused.
Sorry for what?
Then more people came.
Same thing.
“Sorry…”
My heart started to beat differently.
“What happened?”
And then someone said it.
“Jonathan is dead.”
I laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because it didn’t make sense.
“What kind of stupid play is that?”
It felt like a joke. A bad one.
Until my class teacher confirmed it.
And just like that… everything went quiet.
Jonathan was dead.
No warning.
No goodbye.
No last conversation I could hold onto properly.
Just… gone.
I found out later what happened.
He was doing stunts… (he always did stunts).
Playing.
Being a child.
He had an accident.
Hit his chest against metal.
And he didn’t tell anyone.
Not his parents.
Not me.
Not anyone.
That night, the pain came.
They rushed him to the hospital.
They said his chest bone was cracked.
And by the next morning… Jonathan was gone.
Just like that.
Life doesn’t pause for things like that.
That’s the part no one prepares you for.
School continued.
Classes went on.
People laughed again.
But me?
I couldn’t concentrate.
I couldn’t sleep.
I was angry at the school, my classmates, the world.
Because how do you go from talking to someone every day… to never hearing their voice again? And everyone was just going on with their lives like nothing happened.
How?
And the worst part is… time moves.
Slowly at first.
Painfully.
Then faster.
Until one day, you realise something that feels almost wrong:
You’re living without them.
Normal things start to feel normal again.
You laugh.
You talk.
You continue.
And it feels like betrayal.
Because how can life keep going… when someone like Jonathan isn’t here anymore?
Sometimes, I remember the small things.
Not the big moments.
Not anything dramatic.
Just… his voice.
His honesty.
The way he would say things without thinking twice.
“Eromosele, you didn’t brush today.”
And I sit there and think…
Out of everything he could have said… out of everything I could have appreciated more… it’s that.
That’s what I miss.
Not perfection.
Not big speeches.
Just… him. Simple.
And maybe that’s why I don’t have a best friend anymore.
Not because I can’t.
Not because I don’t meet good people.
But because once you’ve had something real like that… everything else feels like it’s trying to measure up to a memory.
And memories don’t change.
People do.
Sometimes I wonder what he would be like now.
If he’d still be the same.
If we’d still be close.
If he’d still call me out on things I don’t want to hear.
If we’d go to the same uni
I don’t know.
All I know is this:
The world lost someone good.
Not loud.
Not famous.
Just… good.
And somehow, it kept moving like nothing happened.
But I remember.
And every year around this time… I remember a little more.
He didn’t get to grow up.
And the rest of us did.
That’s the part that hurts the most.
Because somewhere between who we were… and who we’re becoming… he’s still there.
Frozen.
And I’m here.
Still wishing… I could hear him one more time.
