“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” — Psalm 34:18
I never imagined that I would find myself in this place — mourning not one, but two of the women who shaped my life so deeply. The pain runs so deep it feels like two swords have pierced the same heart. It is a double agony, yet I hold on to the truth that God is ever near.
First, my beloved mother, Theresa Awovi Gbekle, my first teacher, my silent strength, my prayer warrior. Her life was woven into mine from the very beginning.
She taught me how to kneel before God before I learned to walk in the world; even though she didn’t know the Almighty God by then. She gave everything without ever seeking reward. Her hands worked, her lips prayed, her eyes watched over me. Even in silence, she was speaking — teaching me faith, endurance, and quiet resilience.
And before I could recover from that blow, God called home yet another precious soul — my Sister and mentor, Sr. Rejoice Eugenia Ami Sedegah, SMMC. She was not only a fellow Religious but also a light in my journey of communication.
She believed in me when I doubted myself. She guided my pen, inspired my mission, and never stopped encouraging me to use the media to tell stories that mattered — stories of faith, justice, and compassion.
Her illness was long, and yet she bore it with grace, often still asking about my work, reminding me of deadlines. Even in pain, she was a mentor. She taught me how to suffer with faith and how to continue to serve even from the cross.
Losing them both so close together feels like losing two pillars of my life. One gave me life, the other gave direction to my mission. One bore me in the womb, the other bore me in spirit. And now, I must walk this path without their physical presence.
But I do not walk alone.
I feel their prayers — my mother’s whispered Rosaries still echo in my ears, and Sr. Rejoice’s voice still urges me on, “Write, Aggie… write something that touches hearts.”
In the silence of their absence, their spirits speak louder. This is indeed a double agony. But it is also a moment of double grace — for in their deaths, I have seen the nearness of God. He is in the embrace of my Sisters, in the prayers of friends, and in the quiet comfort of Scripture.
I know I will meet them again. Until then, I will live the lessons they taught me. I will love like my mother loved — fully and selflessly. And I will serve like Sr. Rejoice served — with courage and clarity.
“The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.” — Job 1:21
Danye, Sr. Rejoice — thank you. Rest well in God’s eternal light. I will continue the journey you both helped me begin.
Amen.
