From Idleness to Purpose: A Journey Shaped by Loss and Love by Dada James Olasunkanmi

From Idleness to Purpose: A Journey Shaped by Loss and Love by Dada James Olasunkanmi

Life comes in phases different experiences, different emotions but when an unconventional breakthrough happens, it leaves an indelible impression.

I grew up in a modest home where dreams felt like distant stars beautiful but unreachable. My parents worked tirelessly, their hands worn from labor, yet their love filled our home with warmth. I, on the other hand, was idle. My teenage years were filled with daydreams but no real action—nonchalant, disconnected, a fantasist. I thought life would always be that way, with my parents’ hard work smoothing every bump in my path. I drifted through my days, uninterested in school, often glued to my phone or video games rather than helping my dad or picking up a book.

“Why bother?” I would mutter when my mom gently urged me to find a purpose. I wasn’t ungrateful, just too comfortable floating on the cushion of my parents’ sacrifices. They didn’t pressure me. My mom would smile and say, “He’ll find his way,” while my dad would grunt and hope I’d eventually grow out of it.

Everything changed when I turned 18.

One weekend, my deeply religious mother returned from church unusually exhausted. She had gone on Saturday to help clean and had attended the full service on Sunday, walking the entire way. At first, we assumed she was just tired. But by the next day, her condition worsened. The pastor’s wife came for prayers, and a nurse came to administer medication. I was panicking silently in the other room, feeling deep down that something terrible was coming but desperately hoping I was wrong.

Later that evening, as my siblings and I sat outside talking and laughing, the nurse suddenly shouted through the window, “Mommy is not breathing, her body is stiff!” We rushed inside. My elder brother quickly called a friend who owned a car to take her to the hospital.

“This nurse doesn’t know what she’s doing,” my brother said.

At the hospital, the doctor took one look and said, “This mama has been dead for a while now. If I admit her, it will only cost you unnecessary money.”

I punched a wall in frustration. The wall broke, and my hand bled, leaving scars. My world cracked open.

The house felt empty without her gentle presence, her warm laughter, her quiet reminders to eat or pray. My dad and siblings buried themselves in work, their grief etched into their faces, while I was left alone to face the silence.

At first, I was lost. I spent my days staring at the ceiling, the weight of her absence pressing down on me. But one day, while sorting through her belongings, I found a notebook where she had written down sermons from church. One word jumped out at me—“Backsliding.” It was written in bold letters, unlike the rest. It felt like a divine message. I realized I was slipping into self-destruction, using alcohol and other bad habits to numb my pain. In a flash, I saw what my future could look like if I continued down that path—and it terrified me.

I remembered something my mother had told me a few months before she died:

“There’s power in your thoughts if you take action on them. Whatever you do shall prosper.”

That moment changed everything. I realized my life, from that point forward, would be my responsibility. I had been wasting precious time while my family carried the weight.

Her memory became my spark.

I started small. I followed my architect brother to construction sites and worked as a laborer. Eventually, I got a job through his close friend someone I was actually closer to than my brother himself. He owned a cyber café in Magodo, Lagos, and needed someone to manage it while he traveled. I volunteered.

At first, I was clueless about how the machines worked, but the more I used them, the more I discovered I actually enjoyed it. While working there, I was also waiting for admission into a school I had applied to. I had met the requirements, but when time passed without news, I visited the school. I learned that I should’ve followed up earlier; the batches of admissions had been based mostly on internal slots.

Surprisingly, I wasn’t angry or discouraged. I returned home, told my family what happened, and went back to work. The café was far from home, so I often slept at the shop or stayed at my boss’s house. I never got greedy. I remained faithful, holding onto the values my dad instilled in me as a child.

Over time, my boss grew to trust me deeply. He would tell customers we were brothers, and we spent time together on weekends. Eventually, he introduced me to digital money specifically how to buy and sell cryptocurrency using P2P (peer-to-peer) trading. I learned quickly and began to make small profits.

One evening, after a long day at work, I was walking with my boss to get dinner when I received an SMS:

“You’ve been offered admission to study Advertising and Graphic Design at Lens Polytechnic, Offa.”

I screamed with joy“Ope o!” (Thank God!)

I had never been outside Lagos before and had never even heard of the school, but I was overjoyed. I immediately called my brother, who then told my dad. My father was so supportive that he gave me ₦90,000 to travel and check out the school.

A few months later, I became a full-time student at Lens Polytechnic. With this new chapter came new responsibilities. I grew in knowledge and maturity. I continued trading cryptocurrency and was making good money—enough to buy a few valuable items I used to only dream about.

At the end of my National Diploma, I earned a Distinction.

I may never become a doctor or a lawyer, but I’ve found my purpose.

My dream is to work at an advertising agency—or better yet, own one. I also aspire to be a video director, particularly for short films. I’m currently pursuing my Higher National Diploma in Strategic Communication and Media Studies, and I’m working hard every day to make that dream a reality.

I’m no longer idle. I’m living with purpose shaped by loss, driven by love.

And somewhere, I know my mother is smiling.