BY NIKKI ADEBIYI, FOUNDER @ BOUNCE BLACK
Dear Bounce Black community,
October 2023 was an unforgettable month.
I relaunched Bounce Black on World Mental Health Day as a demonstration of my own triumphant shift from surviving to thriving. I participated in advisory board meetings about issues close to my heart. I spoke on panels for Black History Month, and I hosted one myself as part of a lively relaunch event at The Africa Centre. I interviewed inspiring authors, journalists, and D&I experts. I even announced my collaboration with Cole Khan Solicitors on a series of articles and webinars. I was on a roll.
Then my father passed away.
About a week later, my cousin followed suit.
Just like that, I went from preparing for exciting events and opportunities to preparing for things I didn’t imagine happening at all or so soon.
My life changed suddenly, permanently and painfully.
As the eldest child and daughter, most of the responsibility fell on me, as is typical in cultures like mine. I became, as one family member put it, “a mini mother”. A role that I didn’t sign up for but nevertheless performed to the best of my ability by dutifully and willingly coordinating family and friends to ensure I gave my father the send-off he deserved before flying out to the US for my cousin’s funeral the same week.
Sounds like a lot? That’s an understatement. I found that I could not be project manager and lady in mourning at the same time, so I had to put my grief temporarily on hold.
Thankfully, my support system proved itself reliable as my friends, colleagues, family and church drew near in various ways. From food, flowers, phone calls and prayers, to financial contributions, visits, hugs and logistical support, I have not had to weather this storm alone. For that I am deeply grateful because their support has allowed me to begin processing my losses and adjusting to my new normal. I doubt I would have made it through without this wider family of mine.
Initially, when I got the news, I was speechless. I couldn’t find the words.
Now, they are coming to me a bit more easily as I have resumed therapy. So, expect a lot of content to come centering around grief and loss. Some of these reflections can already be found on my personal Instagram, where I shared a portion of the tribute I read about my Dad at his service of songs. Some requested to read it in full, so I include an adapted transcript below.
As I ease myself back into entrepreneurial life, I hope that the lessons from my experiences will be of benefit to the community. Thank you in advance for walking with me through this journey of life on the other side of loss.
With gratitude and warmth,
Nikki
Transcript: My tribute to Dad
Hi everyone.
Thank you for coming tonight. We really appreciate you joining us to celebrate the life of our Dad.
But I have to be honest, I’ve never dreaded attending an event I have organised so much in my life.
It feels surreal. Death really does stop time and alter perspective. I just about managed to pull together these words earlier today.
I’m not new to grief. I have had my own fair share of difficulties in life, and I am deeply empathetic so I feel other people’s pain intensely. I can’t count the number of times I’ve extended my condolences and apologised for people’s loss with complete sincerity. Yet when others began saying it to me, I was confused.
For those first 5 days, I did not know what to do with that phrase.
I didn’t want to believe they were mine. I couldn’t believe it was being said to me. The words felt foreign and useless. I kept wondering why people are saying this to me. What am I supposed to do with all these text messages?
Nothing felt real. It still doesn’t, to be honest.
How many times have I referred to someone as the late So and So, and now I’m receiving emails about my Dad in the same way and it just doesn’t make sense. My father was never late. He was the proverbial Airport Dad who gets to places 5 hours earlier than necessary. So, I’ve been considering referring to him as my Extra Early father.
That was his character. Always on time. Principled and steadfast. We didn’t always see eye to eye. In fact, we mostly never saw eye to eye. I inherited his opinionated nature. So, our political views grew further and further apart over the years, but I appreciate his efforts to try to make sure we didn’t.
My father wasn’t a perfect man and neither am I a perfect daughter. There were times he deeply hurt me and times I deeply hurt him. I inherited more than just his activist traits, but also his sensitive nature. So, I regret that it took me longer than I’d like to forgive him. I regret even more that just as our relationship was improving for better and he had become more affectionate, he has been taken away.
When his cousin, who I refer to as my Aunty, came over to my apartment after my mother broke the news, aunty hugged me and kissed me on my right cheek. Exactly the same thing he did earlier in the year when my train pulled in on the exact platform he was working on during his shift at Westminster station on my way to Parliament.
As my aunty embraced me, it dawned on me that I won’t have anymore moments of wandering around platforms in Westminster, asking [Transport for London] staff where my Dad is. I won’t have anymore exclusive tours of Tube stations and going through hidden back routes to the employee car park for him to perform his personal chauffeur and Uber driver duties for me. I won’t have any more staff and station passengers telling me how much they love him, and sometimes giving me free food from Greggs just because of that. Mostly, I will miss the way he beamed with pride as he told them that I was his daughter.
On October 21st, I attended a dance performance event where I heard my Dad’s favourite holiday song playing. Hot Hot Hot by Arrow.
Every childhood summer once the flight to Florida was booked, he would sing with enthusiasm.
Ole, ole, ole. Feeling hot hot hot!
Every single time. Without fail.
As the song played in the background that night, I felt really emotional and resolute about making time in my busy entrepreneurial schedule to bond more with my parents. Somehow I took for granted the idea that I would have more time to do that because my Dad passed the next day. I took for granted that the next time I would properly see him would be on October 31st when I planned to take my family out for my mother’s birthday. I took for granted that he would be able to attend my next event because he missed the first one on October 10th due to work.
Now, here I am, eulogising him the week my second event was to take place.
I don’t know why God decided on this moment. I don’t think it’ll ever make sense to me in this life. But I know I must lean on the same God I’m tempted to question for my healing and comfort.
And I’m thankful that despite having lost a family member, in you all I have gained many more. I’ve learned more about my Dad from your tributes in the past few weeks than all our years together. That makes me a little bit sad, but it also brings me relief to know he has done right by you and you want to honour him to the extent that you are.
I still wish we had more time, but I am grateful for the time we had.
Dear Dad, thank you. I miss you. I’m sorry. I forgive you. I love you.
Bounce Black 
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