A Light That Never Goes Out, It is Well.

To some, she was Lady Pastor Angelina Boateng, but to me, she was simply "Mummy." Our journey began back in our high school days at PRESEC, when I first visited the church with David. From that very first encounter, Mummy didn't treat me like a guest; she treated me like a son. I’ll never forget my first lunch at her home—a big bowl of fufu and soup. Being my first time eating with a family that wasn't my own, I was shy, but Mummy wouldn't have it. She insisted I poke a hole in the fufu and give the soup a "good whip" so I’d get the best portion. Even when she realized I wasn't much of a soup lover—teasing me that I’d eat the meat and leave the "strength" of the soup behind—she did it with a warmth that made me feel completely at home.

As the years passed and I started my business making Sobolo, Mummy became one of my greatest cheerleaders. She would offer me words of wisdom, pushing me to keep going and reassuring me that one day, I was going to make it. Whether we were at church or at home, she was so easy to be around, so full of grace and kindness. She had a way of "mingling" her life with ours until the line between friend and family completely disappeared. She truly saw me as her own, and that was the greatest gift she could have given me.

Some of my fondest memories of Mummy are of her in her garden, happily picking tomatoes and peppers for the family meals. She found so much joy in those simple acts of cultivation and care. Even when things were difficult, she lived by her favorite creed: "It is well." It is heartbreaking to say goodbye to her so soon, but I take comfort in picturing her now in a much grander garden, peaceful and happy. Mummy, thank you for the strength you shared, the lessons you taught, and for always making sure there was a place for me at your table. It is well.