Nobody makes a lovely corpse hence when Madam Alice Emefiele died on the Christmas day, it took the man in her son Godwin Emefiele, the governor of Central Bank, to comprehend how such a lovely mother could be reduced to a corpse.
If Godwin had his way as he is wont to in the banking and finance, he would have bullishly negotiated with death to name its cost, even in dollars or pounds, and spare the life of his mother. Sadly, even the wealth of the wealthy ones offers them no shield against death. As it claims the commoner, so does it claim the affluent. The unconquerable grim reaper defied all measures and claimed the life of his dear mother.
If Godwin would define his mother, he would claim that the wall of her heart was lined with gold and silver; he would say that she lived by a moral code that dwarfed old England’s claim to chivalry and honour. Then he might say that even in her absence; that old diffident virtuosity she left behind, resonates poignantly like the timeless lyric of a heavenly chant. There are too many ways to describe Godwin’s mother, and even the best couched adjectives couldn’t do justice to the task. However, Godwin is pulling all the stops to bid his departed mother goodbye in grand style pretty soon.
