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Grief like a thief in the Bible has a way of arriving unannounced. It does not knock politely at the door. It storms in, overturns the furniture of the heart, and leaves silence where laughter once lived. In the past few days, grief has visited the home of our friend and colleague, Michael Effiong. The respected journalist and public servant has suddenly lost his beloved wife, Oluwakemi, in a tragic domestic accident. Some losses come with warning. Illness whispers its approach. Age prepares the mind. Hospitals sometimes stretch the long goodbye. But there are other losses that descend like thunder from a clear sky. They strike so suddenly that the mind refuses to accept what the ears have heard. This is the kind of loss that has befallen Michael Effiong of Ovation magazine fame.
One moment, life was unfolding in its familiar rhythm — the quiet domestic routine of husband and wife, the shared dreams, the small conversations that make a house a home. The next moment, the unthinkable happened. And just like that, the rhythm stopped.
When tragic news like this breaks, something remarkable happens in the digital village we now call social media. Facebook, often filled with noise, arguments and fleeting distractions, suddenly becomes something sacred. It becomes a gathering ground for compassion. Over the past few days, Michael Effiong’s Facebook page has turned into a virtual condolence register. Friends, colleagues, classmates, fellow journalists, political associates — and even strangers — have gathered there. One after the other, the messages flow in like candles being lit in the darkness.
“May God give you the fortitude to bear the loss.”
“Take heart, my brother.”
“Our prayers are with you.”
“May her soul rest in peace.”
It is the oldest language of humanity — the language of consolation. In moments like this, words always feel inadequate. What do you say to a man whose world has suddenly shifted? What sentence can mend a heart pierced by sudden sorrow?
And yet we speak.
We write.
We pray.
Not because words can erase grief, but because silence would be unbearable.
Those who know Michael Effiong know a man who has paid his dues in journalism. Ovation Magazine’s former editor, he built his reputation the old-fashioned way — through hard work, discipline and respect for the craft. In a profession where credibility is currency, Michael earned the respect of colleagues across the media landscape. Today he serves in public communication, bringing the same professionalism into government service. But titles fade in the face of tragedy.
At a moment like this, Michael is not an editor. Not a government aide. Not a public figure. He is simply a husband mourning the woman he loved. And that is what makes the loss so profoundly human. Behind every accomplished man is a private world few people see. The world of home. The world where he is not addressed as “sir” or “editor,” but simply as “my husband.” The world where success and failure are shared quietly across the dinner table. That world has now been stolen, shaken. Those who have experienced sudden bereavement know the strange fog that follows. The mind keeps replaying the last conversation. The last smile. The last ordinary moment that suddenly becomes precious. You begin to wish you had known it was the last time. But life rarely grants such warnings.
In moments like this, the mind travels to others in our journalism family who have walked this same lonely road. One of them is veteran columnist and master stylist, Ray Ekpu. Like Michael Effiong today, Ekpu once stood at the edge of devastating loss — the death of his beloved wife, Uyai, his companion of many decades. When she died in April 2024 after a brief illness, the celebrated journalist was shattered.
Here was a man who had faced military dictators, political storms and prison cells. Yet nothing prepared him for the silence left behind by the woman who had shared his life. Ekpu later recalled the painful moment he saw his wife lying lifeless. The seasoned journalist, who had written countless powerful commentaries, found himself asking her in disbelief:
“After all these years… is this how you will leave me?”
There was no answer. And the man who had chronicled the tragedies of nations broke down and wept like a child. Grief humbles even the strongest among us. Later, Ekpu made a quiet confession that revealed the depth of that love. He had arranged that when his own time comes, he would be buried beside his wife.
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Not just in the same cemetery. Beside her.
It was not merely a statement about death. It was a testimony about companionship. The kind of companionship that survives even the grave. For those of us watching from afar, Ekpu’s sorrow was a reminder that behind every celebrated journalist lies a private love story rarely told in headlines.
Today, as Michael Effiong confronts his own painful loss, that memory becomes both lesson and comfort. Because time — though it never erases grief — gradually softens its sharpest edges. The same Ekpu who once spoke through tears eventually found the courage to speak again about life, memory and gratitude. He spoke to me. You can go back to read in the Saturday Sun Valentine edition of February 14, 2026.
That is the quiet resilience of the human heart. I too joined thousands of others to leave a simple prayer on Michael’s Facebook page:
May God grant you the fortitude to bear this painful loss.
It is a phrase Nigerians have used for generations. Some dismiss it as routine. But anyone who has suffered grief knows its deep meaning: Fortitude.
That quiet strength that allows a human being to wake up the next morning even when the heart feels broken. Fortitude is what allows a grieving man to receive visitors when all he wants is solitude. Fortitude is what allows him to hold back tears while speaking to children, family members and friends. Fortitude is what allows life to continue when part of life has suddenly disappeared.
In moments of grief we are reminded of the fragile nature of existence. Deadlines shrink. Traffic becomes irrelevant. Politics loses its urgency. What matters is love. What matters is family. What matters is the simple privilege of waking up beside the people who mean the world to us. Death has a cruel way of teaching that lesson. But it also reveals something else — the quiet resilience of the human spirit. For Michael Effiong, the days ahead will not be easy. Grief does not obey a timetable. It does not disappear because condolences have been expressed or burial rites completed.
Grief lingers. Sometimes it returns in quiet moments — when a familiar song plays, when an empty chair stares across the room, when memory whispers unexpectedly. But grief also slowly transforms. What begins as raw pain eventually softens into memory. Tears eventually give way to gratitude — gratitude for the years shared, the love experienced, the moments death cannot erase.
For love, once given, never truly disappears. It lives in memory. It lives in family. It lives in the lives touched along the way. And so today, as friends continue to pour their prayers onto Michael Effiong’s Facebook page, we are participating in something deeply human. We are standing with a grieving friend. We are reminding him that even in the darkest valley, he does not walk alone.
And we pray that God, in His infinite mercy, will grant him the strength only heaven can give.
The strength to endure.
The strength to remember with love rather than only sorrow.
The strength to carry on.
For grief may visit without warning.
But with faith, community and time, the human heart somehow finds the courage to keep beating.
And that courage is what we wish our friend Michael Effiong today.
