ON LOVE, LOSS, AND MORE

 DOYINSOLA WALE-BANMORE remembers the last moments of her strong-willed father and former chief executive of  STACO INSURANCE, Wale Banmore

I travelled home thinking it was temporary. I went to see how he was feeling, even when he only just left me a few days before in Abuja. I went to help, having been on this journey with him long before – across countries, across seasons. I was his walking medical report. So, I went just to be around. I knew him seeing my face, hearing my voice, would add a little spark. I had no premonition I was walking into the final chapter of my father’s life.

My father was not a fragile man. He was disciplined, driven, and deeply committed to excellence. He had never been sick before. He lived a healthy life, waking up at 5 a.m. every day, going to the gym after work, eating clean, drinking his lemon and green tea. So, when he was diagnosed with prostate cancer in 2019, we were shaken. But he was steady. He faced it the way he faced every other thing in his life: with structure, faith and quiet resolve.

In 2020, at the height of COVID, he went through chemotherapy alone in Germany. While the world trembled, he endured. After that season, he retired from his role as MD and CEO in the company he worked for at the time, but rest never quite fit him. While on medication, injections, and monthly blood tests, he returned to school. He earned his MPhil. Then his PhD in Business Administration. Later, he took on another role as MD and CEO and revived an ailing company, all while still fighting cancer. Throughout that period, I watched him choose purpose over pity. Again, and again.

Early 2025, the cancer metastasized to his back, and radiotherapy followed. Then at the end of September, headaches led to an MRI. Three hemorrhagic metastatic masses were found in his brain. So, I came home. I didn’t announce it. I simply returned to Lagos and took time off work. I remain deeply grateful for a boss who met that moment with compassion and trust, not pressure.

I became a daughter in hospital corridors. A daughter in the waiting rooms. A daughter learning medical language I never wanted to learn. But I was never alone. My mother, my brothers, niece, and sister-in-law were present on the journey, carrying the weight with me. Mr. Dada will forever remain a steadfast presence in our story, an employee who became family. He stood with me in caring for my father, not as duty, but as devotion. My uncle, my father’s cousin and his wife opened their home to me in Abuja and held space for me in ways only family can.

My father’s friends showed up faithfully, every other day, from September until his passing. They came not only with concern, but with presence helping to keep his faith alive when the days were long. His management team and board of directors (STACO INSURANCE) did not step back when things became difficult. They stepped forward. They showed up. They carried responsibility, his dignity, and his care.

And my friends became my refuge. They listened patiently to my daily hospital narrations filled with fear, fatigue, and faith. The one who picked me up from the airport and returned me again and again. The one who offered me a place to stay and an ear that never closed. Others gathered after his passing to represent me when grief made it impossible to show up fully.

Early October, the largest brain mass was surgically removed. Hope returned briefly. My birthday passed quietly. Then his birthday came on October 27 and we celebrated it in the hospital. With nurses. With laughter that did not pretend. With gratitude for presence. He improved. He was discharged. November brought another complication, and again he recovered. Then December came. And this time, he did not return home.

Some goodbyes do not come with warning. They come with hospital beds, beeping machines, and prayers whispered because shouting feels impossible. I prayed for a miracle. God did not give me the miracle I asked for. But He gave me moments I will cherish forever. I was beside him every day in his final season, driving to and from the hospital, cooking his meals, managing his needs, becoming his personal assistant, his nurse, his reminder to eat his vegetables. And I am learning that sometimes, those moments were miracles. Moments to sit. Moments to hold his hand. Moments to love well.

I watched my father fight with dignity. I watched him endure without complaint. I watched with unwavering faith in God. And I watched him let go surrounded by love. Somewhere in that season, I met a version of myself I had never known. Stronger. Softer. More grounded. More honest. Grief did not destroy me. It introduced me to myself.

At the end, the message came: I did not lose my father. I released him. This is therefore my goodnight to him. And my ‘thank you’ to all who stood by him and the family at that most difficult period. This is my becoming. I am still standing.

I am deeply grateful to every person who showed up for my father medically, spiritually, and personally. To Dr Gaurav Kumar FRCR, Urologische Klinik München planegg, Marcelle Ruth cancer and specialist hospital, Dr Modupe Elebute-Odunsi, Mrs Modupe Dada, Ms Olufunke Foresythe, Me Cure Healthcare, thank you for your skill, your care, and your humanity. You were not just treating a patient; you were carrying a family.

 Wale-Banmore is a Communications & Digital Media Officer at Agora Policy and an independent film and documentary produce