Dear Death, before we meet.
A letter to loss, love notes to purpose, and why I’m no longer afraid of what comes next.
Dear Death,
I no longer fear you. In fact, maybe you should be the one who fears me.
Let’s start with where we first met. November 2nd, 2021, I received a text from my friend and brother, Seyi.
“Temiiiiiii.”
“Omg, Seyi! I was just thinking about you!”
“Don’t do that. Always text somebody when they cross your mind.”
“Okayy! My B. I’ll do better. I'm a tad busy tho. I’ll give you a call tomorrow. Promiseeeee.”
“Okay. Talk soon!”
I called him a few times. No pickup. No worries. “He’s probably busy. I thought.”
The whole day went by. Still no call. Then I logged onto Instagram, and the first post led to a drop in my stomach. His best friend wrote a “I’ll forever miss you” post.
I called again. And again.
Still no answer…..There’s no way this is real, I said. “I was just speaking to him.”
But that “Talk soon” never came.
You snatched him. No warning. No goodbyes.
Grief turned into guilt, and it was met with silence.
A silence that settled into the kind of ache that made me question every. single. thing.
I can admit that you had a chokehold on me — one that made me consider ending it early, choosing the exit myself. But that was too much power to give away — power that made me feel like I had to be constantly doing something, as if time was always running out. But the moment I let you go? Something lifted. My lungs remembered what breath was. Everything became clear. The power had always been mine.
You’ve become my motivation, my fuel to create again. You became the push that forced me to remember why I’m here. I finally understand that my purpose is to leave this world empty, because I’ve poured out every gift, every thought, every ounce of what was placed inside me.
Before we meet, I have a lifetime of work to do. I intend to give the world everything I was sent with.
They always say to plant seeds in life. But what if we are the seed — meant to grow, bloom, and scatter truth through what we create? Because the truth is that creatives are ministers. We don’t create to be seen; we create to set others free. Every piece of art sends a message: hope, clarity, conviction. It tells someone, "You’re not alone. You’re not broken. What’s inside you matter." And if we offer it with even the faith of a mustard seed, it’ll reach exactly who it’s meant to.
Death, you lied to me. Or maybe it was society. Maybe both of you.
I was told I had to do something BIG to matter. Something loud. Something permanent. Because deep down, no one wants to be forgotten.
But I’ve learned the truth: It’s the small things that make the biggest waves.
Like throwing a tiny rock in the water, the ripples reach far beyond the surface.
Seyi poured into me. When I picked up graphic design out of necessity, not desire, he saw something in me I couldn’t yet see. He hired me to design flyers for his events. Pulled me into planning and hosting too. I didn’t always enjoy it. But he believed in me.
Even now, I can hear him cheering me on when I launch a new event — and some days, I still feel like I need him here.
That, too, is the power of the little things. What felt small to him became everything to me. And now, I try to do the same — to pass on that belief to other creatives.
So, I’ll keep throwing stones. Quiet ones. But they’ll move oceans.
Because someone, somewhere, will need what I leave behind, a word, a video. That’s legacy. That’s the mission. That’s why I’m Temming the world my stories.
Let me say it clearly and without hesitation: I never truly feared you. What I feared was the weight of my calling. I feared what obedience might ask of me. I experienced the anxiety of having ambition, but lacking productivity, which in return made me feel like time was running out.
But not anymore.
You don’t hold power over me.
You never did.
I’ve got work to do. And I will not leave until the assignment is complete — not full but poured out.
Not celebrated but spent.
Not waiting, but willing.
Not perfect, but present.
🥺🥹🥹