family

Family Traditions: The Importance of Christmas Clothes

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Christmas Clothes The Importance Of Family Traditions

The Christmas holiday is one family tradition I always look forward to. Apart from the fun and relaxation with friends and family, I always anticipate my Christmas clothes. My parents would always gift my siblings and I new clothes and shoes every Christmas holiday and it became a tradition. This is one age-old tradition has been passed from generation to generation and I will continually uphold and cherish. The cheesy feeling it brings and the love behind giving us those Christmas clothes makes it remarkable. Another family gathering I always look forward to is the cross overnight. Everyone in my family is always present as we share, pray, and plan for the new year. Yours might be different from mine. There are certain traditions your parents have instilled in you that have shaped you. I once had a friend who told me that every year, in honor of their mom’s birthday, they visit the orphanage to donate food items and clothing. In turn, this tradition made her regard the less privileged. Importance of Family Traditions Family traditions carry a special significance for all family members involved. As opposed to family routines which are often basic activities that are necessary to keep the family unit functioning. Family traditions help to make memories for families that last a lifetime. It provides children with a sense of security by providing continuity. It gives family members a strong sense of belonging. It helps pass on family values, including cultural and religious heritage. Conclusion Family traditions are always something to look forward to as they establish a foundation for family values and serve as special bonding experiences.

A Tale of 3 Women Who Broke Barriers

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Birds Who Flew Without Wings A Tale of Three Women Who Broke Barriers

A Tale of 3 women who against all odds broke barriers, Dr. Yvonne, Miss Ara, and Mrs. Ayanfe, didn’t let their past and background define them; read this article to see their stories, how they flew even when it seemed as though their wings had been cut.

Female Genital Mutilation: The Tale of a Victim 1

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Female Genital Mutilation Tale of a Victim (1)

Amina’s 10th birthday marked a turning point in her life. Instead of celebrating, she was taken to a village where she was forced to undergo female genital mutilation (FGM). The experience was traumatic, and Amina witnessed the devastating consequences of FGM, including the death of a young girl who underwent the procedure before her.

Family and Values: All You Need to Know

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Family and Values All You Need to Know (2)

Thinking about values and what should be your top value? Choose family. Read this article to know why. A family is a group of people related by blood, marriage, or adoption. The Cambridge Dictionary defines values as the beliefs people have, especially about what is right and wrong and what is most important in life, that control their behaviour. Examples of values include growth, empathy, discipline, family, compassion, honesty, humility, and courage. I hold family as my top value, and I believe everyone should too. Family is the first and primary institution in society, and it plays a crucial role in child care and development. Your family is your first school, and when a child is born, the family becomes solely responsible for their development, welfare, and overall well-being. The family unit teaches children basic knowledge, respect, honesty, humility, and essential life skills. As children grow, these lessons shape their social, cultural, political, and religious views. When children from different families interact, their differing perspectives often lead to disagreements. However, these disagreements stem from the values instilled by their families. Brown is a high school girl who believes she can break barriers and, against all odds, become a great force in aerospace. June, a five-year-old, believes he’s going to be a doctor someday. Lin doesn’t eat meat because her mom said they’re vegetarians. Zuri, a four-year-old, almost went out with her hair out, but her elder sister told her girls in Islam should always cover their hair. Tahley cried because he wanted to meet Santa Claus, and his dad said, “Wait till it’s Christmas.” Nobody is an island; everyone needs family and the love that binds them. Your family is the first to love you, and this love stays, even till the end of time. While there may be conflicts, it is pertinent to know that as long as humans are on earth, there will always be conflicts, and they can always be managed and curbed. Tobi and Julie, siblings who argue frequently, remain best friends for life. If you’re unsure about prioritizing family, ask yourself: Who supported you in difficult times? Who reassured and cared for you? Who made sacrifices and stayed by your side? Who said those prayers and stayed with you all night? Mr. Levi, a 66-year-old in the hospital, looks at his wife with so much love as she cleans him up with care and gentleness. Shayla cries as her lover just dumped her, and she finds solace and comfort in her big brother’s arms. Katherine is campaigning, as she wants to be the first black woman to win the election. The love of family is profound. It’s deeper than the Pacific Ocean, knowing you for who you are and standing by you through thick and thin. Come rain, come sunshine. When others turn away, your family remains. They bring joy in bleak times, make you laugh when you see no reason to, provide a sense of security, and take risks for you. They teach with love, and no one wants the best for you more than your family. Brown is now an aerospace engineer; her family believed in her and gave her all the support she needed. Just like Ben Carson, June is now a neurosurgeon; he wasn’t good in sciences, but his big brother didn’t give up on him. Lin doesn’t need to be reminded to say no when given meat. Zuri knows she must not expose her hair in public; she has never done that. “Christmas is my best season,” Tahley said, as he does his Christmas decor in his apartment in a Santa Claus costume. Mrs. Levi has tears of joy rolling down her cheeks as Mr. Levi rings the bell; he beats cancer and will be discharged from the hospital in a few days. Shayla has now found true love and is married to the best man ever. Katherine won her election against all odds; her family was her backbone. I can go on and on, but the lesson here is that all these achievements were made possible because they all had families with them and by their side. Even as you reflect, this is all you need to hold family as your top value today. ALSO READ: When Family Becomes the Most Important Destination

Family: The One thing That Truly Matters

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Family The One Thing That Truly Matters

Family means a lot more than what I can imagine or express in words. This morning, I found myself reflecting on the moments in life that have meant the most to me. Maybe it was a childhood memory—running into my mother’s arms after scraping my knee, or the sound of my dad’s laughter echoing through the house. Maybe it was something recent—a sibling who stood by me when no one else did, or a grandparent’s wisdom that still shapes my choices today. No matter who we are or where we come from, family is at the heart of our experiences. It’s more than just the people we’re related to—it’s the ones who love us, support us, and make us feel at home, no matter what. And in a world that constantly pulls us in different directions, I believe that prioritizing family is the key to a life well lived. Why Family Matters More Than Ever They are Our Safe Haven Life can be so messy. We all go through life struggles like heartbreak, failure, uncertainty. But family is the one place where you don’t have to pretend. I remember the day I got my WAEC results. My heart sank as I saw the not so encouraging grade. I felt like I had let myself down—and worse, my family. I dreaded telling my parents, convinced they would be disappointed. But when I finally gathered the courage, my dad looked at me and said, ‘If you’re not tired of retaking it, then I am not tired of paying for it.’ And my mom, instead of scolding me, she hugged me, sat me down and helped me create a new study plan. That moment changed my mindset—I realized that failure wasn’t the end, but a lesson. With my family’s support, I retook the exam and passed the second time around. More importantly, I learned that their love for me was never tied to my achievements. They see you at your best and your worst and love you anyway. That kind of support isn’t just comforting—it’s life-changing. They Shape Who We Are Think about the values that guide you. Maybe you learned kindness from a mother who always helped others. I remember watching my mom donate blood for my paternal uncle, who was in urgent need. I was young at the time, and it seemed like such a small act—but it stuck with me. My mom always taught me that kindness doesn’t have to come in grand gestures; it’s the little things we do every day. She would never turn away someone in need, even when it was inconvenient. Today, whenever I see someone struggling, I think of her example and try to help in whatever way I can. Maybe you learn resilience from a father who never gave up. Maybe your sense of humor comes from a sibling who could make you laugh even on the hardest days. Family shape us in ways we don’t always realize, but their impact lasts a lifetime. They Keep Us Grounded In a world obsessed with success, money, and status, it’s easy to lose sight of what really matters. We chase careers, achievements, and recognition, only to find that none of it truly fills the void. But family? They remind us of what really matters, love and connection. I once found myself comparing myself to others, thinking that I wasn’t good enough unless I had the same things they did—a bigger house, a higher-paying job, a ‘perfect’ life. But my family kept me grounded. My sister, with her no-nonsense attitude, told me, ‘Don’t get caught up in what everyone else has. You’ve got everything you need right here.’ Her words were a wake-up call and this is why I am always proud of what I do. My family reminded me that success is different for everyone, and true happiness comes from being content with who you are—not from keeping up with anyone else. Shared moments like this are what make life meaningful and with their guidance, we find our true worth—not in what we achieve, but in who we are and who we are to one another. They Guide Us Through Scripture In a world full of wrong teachings, Family teaches you how to read and understand the Bible, explaining its lessons and helping you apply them to your own life. The teachings from Scripture form the basis of your understanding of God’s plan for you. My grandmother had a beautiful old Bible she kept by her bedside. Every morning, before anyone else was awake, I would quietly find her on her knees, praying with the Bible open in front of her, praying. ‘God has a plan for you, but you need to listen,’ she always told me. One day, I asked her why she always turned to Proverbs, and she explained how the wisdom in those verses had guided her life. She would often share Proverbs 3:5-6: ‘Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.’ That verse became my foundation for navigating difficult decisions, and even now, when life feels uncertain, I remember how she lived those words every day. The Choice to Prioritize Family Here’s the truth: life is short, and time is the one thing we can never get back. We can either get caught up in the distractions of the world, or we can choose to cherish the people who matter most. So, when was the last time you told your parents you loved them? Or called your siblings just to check in? When did you last put down your phone and truly listen to your child, spouse, or best friend? If family is the foundation of happiness, then let’s build our lives around it. Let’s make time for the people who love us. Let’s have more dinners together, more deep conversations, more laughter. Because in the end, success, money, and accomplishments will … Read more

The Unexpected Birthday Surprise – Copy

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The Unexpected Birthday Surprise

I awoke to the sweet taste of glucose lingering on my tongue, a satisfying sensation that brought a smile to my face as I remembered it was my birthday. I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for turning thirty—an age that had never looked better on anyone. As I stretched and shifted positions in bed, I recalled my husband’s playful comment about my sleeping habit, which he termed “ballet dancing.” I wondered how I twisted and turned that way while asleep. Eagerly anticipating birthday wishes, I waited for my husband and son to initiate the celebration. However, as our morning routine unfolded—devotion, breakfast, and casual conversation—not a single “Happy Birthday” was uttered. My husband proceeded with his day as usual, while our son, Joshua, chattered about his upcoming weekend tests. “Mom, did you know we have three tests this weekend?” Joshua asked, his eyes wide with a mix of excitement and apprehension. “Three tests? That’s quite a lot, honey. What subjects?” I inquired, trying to mask my disappointment at the lack of birthday acknowledgement. “Math, Science, and English,” he replied, counting them off on his fingers. “I’m not worried about Math or Science, but English… ugh!” He dramatically flopped his head onto the table. I couldn’t help but chuckle at his theatrics. “Well, how about we review your English notes together this evening? We can make it fun with some word games.” Joshua’s face lit up. “Really? That’d be awesome! Can we use those colourful flash cards you made last time?” “Of course,” I promised, ruffling his hair affectionately. As our conversation continued, confusion and disappointment began to creep in. How could they forget my birthday? I’d been excitedly mentioning it all week. Part of me wanted to remind them, but I held my tongue, silently observing their laughter and jokes. “My mom invited us over this evening,” my husband announced, momentarily lifting my spirits. Perhaps my mother-in-law would remember. “Yes, we’ll go,” I replied, already envisioning the perfect gift and our next culinary adventure together. My mother-in-law was an exceptional cook, and I always looked forward to learning new recipes from her. Joshua interjected, “But I’m spending the weekend with Aunt Chi. Joan’s competing in the Double Dutch game tomorrow, and I’m cheering for her.” I raised an eyebrow, surprised by this sudden change of plans. “Double Dutch? Since when are you interested in jump rope competitions?” Joshua’s cheeks reddened slightly. “Well, um, Joan’s really good at it. And I promised I’d be there to support her.” My husband and I exchanged knowing glances. “You know, son,” my husband began, a mischievous glint in his eye, “there might be quite a few girls at this event. Are you sure you’re ready for that?” Joshua’s blush deepened. “Dad! It’s not like that. Joan’s my cousin. Besides, Aunt Chi will be there too.” After a brief attempt to playfully tease Joshua about attending an event surrounded by girls, we hurried through breakfast and departed for our respective destinations. At work, my colleagues showered me with prayers, wishes, and promises of gifts. Yet, the absence of any acknowledgement from my husband lingered. No call, no text, no surprise delivery—nothing. I tried to focus on my tasks, but my mind kept drifting to thoughts of my family’s apparent forgetfulness. On my way home, I stopped to buy a cute dress for my mother-in-law, imagining our upcoming conversation and the new recipes I’d learn. The soft, floral fabric reminded me of her garden, and I hoped it would bring a smile to her face. Little did I know what awaited me. As I opened the front door, I was greeted by an eruption of “Happy Birthday!” There stood my husband, Joshua, mother-in-law, sister-in-law Chi, her daughter Joan, and my elder brother. Shocked and confused, I stood frozen, my mother-in-law’s gift still in hand. My husband appeared moments later, carrying an enormous cake inscribed with the words, “Happy Birthday, my Amazon.” The delicious aroma of vanilla and buttercream filled the air, making my mouth water instantly. Overwhelmed with emotion, I realized they hadn’t forgotten—they had been planning this sweet surprise all along. The elaborate ruse, the casual conversations, even Joshua’s sudden interest in double Dutch—it had all been part of their plan. As he embraced me, my husband whispered, “Happy Birthday, Sweetheart. I didn’t forget.” The butterflies in my stomach danced as I joined in the celebration, surrounded by the love of my family. Joshua rushed forward, wrapping his arms around my waist. “Mom, did we surprise you? Did you really think we forgot?” I laughed, ruffling his hair. “You certainly did, my little actor. I had no idea!” As we gathered around the cake, sharing stories and laughter, I felt a profound sense of belonging. This is where I belong, I thought. Home is wherever these wonderful people are. READ ASLO: When Family Becomes the Most Important Destination

 The Morning That Changed Everything

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The Morning That Changed Everything

The year was 2009, and it was a morning unlike any other in our household. Mum woke us up early for prayers, but something was different. The usual rhythm of our morning devotion was disrupted, replaced by an urgency that hung thick in the air. In the past, our prayer time was a leisurely affair. My three siblings and I would each take turns singing five worship songs, we would then read a chapter from the Bible, share our interpretations, and pray one after another. Mum always concluded with the overall prayer, first in Igbo, then in English. I often found myself imagining God’s reaction to this bilingual approach. In my childish mind, I pictured Him perplexed by the Igbo prayers, only to nod in understanding when Mum switched to English. I couldn’t help but wonder why she bothered with Igbo at all if she was going to repeat everything in English anyway. But this morning was different. There were no individual songs, no lengthy Bible study, and no extended prayers. Mum rushed through a brief reading and said grace, leaving us all a bit bewildered. As we finished, I watched Mum spring into action. She retrieved the flour she had purchased the day before and began mixing it in a large bowl. Water, baking powder, salt, sugar, and butter followed in quick succession. Her hands worked tirelessly until she winced, complaining of chest pain. Without missing a beat, she called my brothers to take over the mixing. While they worked on the dough, Mum darted outside to gather firewood from the pile near our house – the same pile she arranged for sale. She returned with an armful, setting it down on the verandah with determination etched on her face. I watched in fascination as she started the fire and cleaned the enormous frying pan she had bought from Kasuwa (Market). As she placed it on the iron firewood stand, she explained her plan. Our provision business was struggling, and she needed to diversify to increase our profits. We already sold firewood, recharge cards, soft drinks, and foodstuffs. Now, we were about to add fried buns to our inventory, with the possibility of expanding into other pastries in the future. Mum sent me to fetch the groundnut oil for frying. I made my way into our two-room apartment, navigating through the space we had divided with wooden shelves to create our makeshift shop. The other half of the front room and the main room served as our living and sleeping quarters, perpetually cluttered despite our best efforts to tidy up. We held onto many useless items, hoping to sell them to the Hausa kwolabe (Scrap collectors) for some extra change or exchange them with kparo (thrift clothes collectors) women for new household items. “What’s keeping you in there?” Mum called from outside, snapping me back to the task at hand. I grabbed the bottles of groundnut oil and hurried out to join her. By now, our neighbours were stirring, and a chorus of “Good mornings” and “How una deys?” filled the air. Mum greeted everyone warmly, her enthusiasm infectious. As our street came to life, passersby stopped to inquire about our new venture. Their faces lit up with anticipation, promising to return once the buns were ready. Meanwhile, my siblings prepared for their day – my sister heading off to her job as a café attendant, and my brothers leaving for school. I stayed behind to help Mum with the frying. As the delicious aroma of fresh buns wafted through the air, our first customers appeared – school children on their way to class. Mum served them with a smile, even offering extra buns to those who bought four at once. Once we finished frying, Mum divided the buns into two sections. She carefully arranged one portion in a transparent plastic bucket and instructed me to get ready quickly. My heart sank as I realized what was coming next – I was to go out and sell the buns. The walk to our compound’s shared bathroom felt endless. My mind raced with thoughts of what lay ahead – hawking fried buns around town, a task that already felt overwhelmingly daunting. The weight of responsibility settled heavily on my shoulders, making even the simple act of bathing a challenge. As I stepped out with the bucket of buns balanced precariously on my head, I could feel the stares of familiar faces boring into my skin. I wanted nothing more than to disappear, to sink into the ground and vanish from sight. With each step down the street, I felt smaller and more exposed. Calls of “Hey, you girl!” “Mai buns!” and “Heys!” echoed around me. The shame crawled across my skin as I spotted my friends on their way to school. I couldn’t bring myself to smile or wave back, wishing desperately for this ordeal to end. I knew the only way to return home was to sell everything. So, against every instinct screaming for me to run and hide, I found my voice and began to shout, “Buy sweet buns!” That morning in 2009 marked a turning point in my young life. It was a harsh introduction to the realities of our family’s financial struggles and the lengths we would go to survive. READ ALSO: Scars That Break Us 

When Family Becomes the Most Important Destination

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ImgResizer 20240728 2015 17080

Dertha started saying Mama often. She would point at Chinaza’s picture on the wall, beside the big family portrait and say, “Mama! See Mama!”At first, Nonso would smile and nod agreeably with her, “Yes, it is Mama.”  He would then swing her into a hug and they would scan Chinaza’s framed photo, the only one in the living room. At night, Dertha would clap and squeal when Chinaza’s face appeared in the video call. It was their magical moment, a sacred tradition that they had kept every night for the past two months since Chinaza left for her program in Belfast. Nonso would allow the children to gush over her first before he would ask, “Kedu, how are you coping over there?” Her countenance fell each time and then brightened up almost immediately remembering their children were still on the call. “I’m fine,” She would respond and then her voice would trail off recounting how her day went and what she did differently in class, how she helped the old woman at Target; how she skipped going to the gym and would not renew her subscription just to save cost. How she ate only boiled eggs for breakfast and Oats for dinner. How the new job as an assistant at the elderly home was treating her. “I can’t wait for you all to come over,” she would say finally. “Soon, we will be with you again.”  Those became their parting words each night, it gave them hope that they would be a complete family again. But that hope began to give in to despair and finally to frustration. The UK Embassy kept denying Nonso’s Visa. He had declared everything he had, why he was travelling and what he was going to do there but they kept rejecting his application each time.  Then Chinaza’s crying spells began, she would have tears in her eyes as she spoke to the kids and watched them do their homework and when she was alone with Nonso, she would let the tears out, sobbing hysterically. She had wanted to leave Nigeria by all means and even though she already had a master’s degree, opted to apply for another just to facilitate leaving. Nonso was not as eager as she was but with each family that left the country, each Facebook post that showed people abroad and each discomfort from government policies which were making lives difficult in Nigeria, Chinaza would complain and talk about how life would be easier if they just relocated. Her application got approved and she was elated to leave first and then bring Nonso and the kids over as her dependants. It felt easy as they said it, as they planned for her relocation and as they said their goodbyes. Now, those cherished moments of togetherness were all they had. Chinaza cried as she remembered how Nonso wanted them to save up more and take things easy and how she had been the one on his neck.  Why wouldn’t they let her family come over to the United Kingdom to be with her? She looked at his weak eyes and said nothing further till they ended the call Nonso watched Dertha’s enthusiasm begin to wane as she pointed at Chinaza’s picture, her “see Mama!” words lacked the lustre they once had and he no longer nodded or agreed with her. Her Mama was gone for a year now and all plans to be together had proven abortive. Mama was not there to see Dertha graduate from pre-school, she wasn’t there to see Caleb collect the overall best students award for the second time; to see him move to third grade where they hoped he would clinch the award again for the third time in a row. Mama wasn’t there to try Nonso’s many recipes, he had grown to become a renowned chef at home since her departure. He had learnt to cook and try things out to ensure the kids fed well. Mama wasn’t there to attend his company’s anniversary dinner with him and he had sat alone with friends who came with their spouses. That night he had returned home and called Chinaza immediately but when she didn’t pick up after the third ring, he flung his phone across the room and removed the necktie he had on angrily. They had agreed to talk by 8:00 pm every day which was 7:00 pm over there. Why was she not there? He angrily sent a text and asked what she was doing behind his back. His frustration only calmed down when he took a cold shower and checked on the children with his Mother to be sure they were fine. He slept off in the living room. He woke up to Chinaza’s text asking what was happening with him and why he sent such an accusing message to her. He wanted to apologize when he got a call from his mum to come over quickly. Dertha was running a temperature and had been throwing up. He spent the entire day at the children’s clinic and for one, he was grateful for his company’s HMO. Caleb opted to stay with his dad and sister so he and Nonso sat at the children’s playing ground, had lunch at the cafeteria and played Whot cards in Dertha’s ward. They waited till Dertha was certified okay and free to go. Nonso heaved a sigh of relief as they got home. He was getting good at this “daddy” thing, he just pulled through a sick bout and did not lose his mind to worry. Dertha was fine. He cooked their meals and waited patiently for 8:00 pm again so they could talk to Chinaza. Caleb fell ill the next day. Whatever Dertha had must have been transferred to him. Nonso was lost again as he took the trip back to the children’s hospital and had to miss church service. That night, he broke down as he talked to Chinaza. “I don’t know what is happening, … Read more

Blood Ties

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Blood Ties

Perhaps a deeper understanding of the titular phrase will be achieved if its biological significance is examined, starting from the heart and the veins, the blood and its ties. The heart is an ever-throbbing turbine, a powerhouse of chaos of various emotions beating wildly to circle out the life juice, the blood, through a network of veins and arteries stretched out and intertwined. Intricately designed like a spider’s web. In that same vein, pun definitely intended, humans exist as part of a whole, a tiny thread as part of a yarn, a single living cell as part of a living organism, and we are drawn in towards the cesspool of throbbing society. As much as we all crave to be alone, no human is designed to exist in isolation. Just as a single drop of blood does not serve its purpose by being isolated but rather by being coordinated through the veins and arteries, so does the mapped-out path of life. In the early beginnings of civilization, the early man migrated across the world and settled wherever he pleased. He formed a community with people he shared blood with either by marriage or by birth. Soon, more individuals, including outsiders, joined him, and the small community began to expand. His descendants had the choice to stay or to migrate—to establish their own communities—and this way, like roots tapping out, civilization emerged. His blood is carried far and wide. This underscores the fact that since all men have been proven historically to have descended from one man, we are all connected. Though the link might prove stronger depending on our direct ancestors, It is thus not strange for people from a certain geographical location to be easily spotted wherever they go. This is because they carry sociocultural, psychological, and physical traits that scream where they come from in their blood. A very good instance is in the area of genetics. All humans have DNA,whicht makes us all so uniquely different and similar at the same time. We have inherited specific traits from our forebears that mark us out. Certain physical and psychological features, strengths and defects, gifts, or curses, as we sometimes choose to call them, And here, we see the cruel hand of fate. Children are made to bear the consequences of the decisions of their parents, as seen in the case of sickle cell anemia patients, or betteryetl, victims. When two people who are carriers of the illness come together, the children suffer for it. They live their lives knowing their life juice, their blood, is poisoned. There are certain things over which love does not triumph. As the blessings are shared, so are the curses. The ripple effects of the achievements and failures of our ancestors spill over into our heads. Innocent children are put under unnecessary pressure to live up to the standards set by their forefathers to prove that these gifts run in their blood and that they are not bastards. The bloodline we share confers on us impossible responsibilities to fulfill. Duties to our families, to our friends, to our neighbors, and to our society at large. Our blood ties tie us down like a goat is bound, with little space to roam and explore. So we spend every day of our finite lives, whether we like it or not, trying to live up to these duties because this is the lens through which society is programmed to see us. “Isn’t he the son of Prof….?” As we make our way through this dense maze, in this foggy haze, bearing unsolicited gifts of which we cannot voluntarily dispose, trying to figure out a pattern of which we did not choose to be a part, we realize that we are not alone, for as we are bound to the ones who have gone before, we are bound to the ones who come after. And we know we are walking on blood. The blood of those we have met and those we have not. The blood of those who have gone before and those who will inevitably come after us. Each drop has a different story. Maybe we are not really meant to understand it, but that is what life is: a puzzle, a question whose solution is constantly staring us in the face. Perhaps death, and only death, might one day do justice.