When my darling friend Uchenna died of a brain aneurism on the 15th September last year, all I could put together on my site was a scant three paragraphs because I’d talked so much about her and her product line on there, I felt that I could not stay completely silent. It’s taken all of this time to process and gather myself and to live with the reality that she isn’t coming back. Two days after she went, I had a press treatment booked at the Suhaku Space, a hydrogen therapy centre in Kensington, where they were so gentle and so kind that I cried my way through the entire session. In my head, I was just saying sorry to Uchenna, sorry that she would miss her daughter so much, sorry that we hadn’t gone on our planned Paris trip, sorry that I hadn’t been a better friend and sorry that her little girl’s world had entirely changed. The tears just flowed and flowed and I felt no better for them – just even more full of tears.
I went to her funeral – she was well known in media circles and would often pop up on This Morning as an expert in dentistry – and it was quite the celebrity affair. It was hard to be at, especially as her sister looks so much like her that it’s a shock, but a Nigerian funeral is next level and after the beautiful church service, there was – I don’t know what to call it really - it felt like an after party, where people were invited to say something about Uchenna. This is where I learned so much about my friend that I’d never known before – her commitment to the church for a start. I didn’t know the prayer group side of Uchenna or that she’d trained at Guy’s Hospital or that she needed back massages between treatments because bending over hundreds of heads took its toll. She literally never mentioned her sore back, nor did she mention her headaches which possibly were a precursor to what ultimately happened.
Uchenna was an achiever – she was the embodiment of the phrase ‘full of life’ and she always wanted more. She was somehow always striving without realising that being the resident dentist on 10 Years Younger, running two successful surgeries, adopting a beautiful, cheeky and highly intelligent baby girl and being in media demand was the top tier she was working to. She was already as good as it gets but no achievement robbed her of the need to be more, do more, achieve more. We had endless, very honest conversations about her ambition spoiling her reality, but she couldn’t shake it. She was a consummate juggler – her day was the equivalent of everyone else’s three days. She was amused and frustrated by her daughter who was every bit as demanding as Uchenna herself – we laughed about that a lot, that it was meant to be because she was 100% Uchenna’s mini-me.
Uchenna was tall and graceful – she was a mad hugger and it drove her crazy that I’m not a hugger. ‘If you don’t come in for a check up I’m going to come to your house and hug you…’. I told her she couldn’t be my friend and my dentist (mainly for financial complications – I wanted to pay because so many people took advantage of her and I didn’t want to be that person – but she wouldn’t have it…we settled on a ‘mate’s rate’ in the end but I’m still horrified at how many people, known, felt entitled to her services for free) but sure enough, she became both my friend and my dentist. I didn’t want my teeth straightening with Invisalign, but here I am with straightened teeth and a reminder of her every day.
I miss her enormously – that generous laugh, the videos of her daughter doing wild dancing (I used to head to H&M Kids to buy her the most sparkly, outrageous clothes I could find, in the full knowledge that Uchenna would have twenty fits). When her daughter first arrived, we’d meet in Greenwich park and Uchenna was worn down and exhausted. She’d vastly underestimated how demanding a baby is – she’d had plans initially to have a full time nanny – but she’d also vastly underestimated just how much she’d love that child and how powerfully and quickly their bond would form. It was such a surprise to her – that you can’t spreadsheet a baby!
I will feel proud to this day that she liked my dogs (when I had Honey and Coco) and she had made it very clear that she didn’t like dogs, but ‘yours are different’, and actually came to a more recent point when she considered getting one because her daughter loves animals so much. I literally banned her from getting a puppy because it would be the straw, but offered an open invitation for her daughter to come and see Dora whenever they liked. One of my favourite days was when we went for (too much) wine and then to the Lisa Eldridge pop-up shop in Covent Garden where she was loud and hilarious … I laugh about this still – the politely horrified staff being extremely lovely and worse because I’d already been in (sober) before we met up and now I was back (tipsy) with a (very tipsy) friend.
Uchenna was a good person – chaotic, ebullient, sincere, kind beyond belief and loyal like no other. Nothing at all is the same without her and I think about her a lot. At the beginning, I didn’t, other than at the salon – I was surprised at how little I grieved for her – but I realise this sort of grief is a slow burner and it catches up with you. I’m still just so, so very sorry that she isn’t here. I’ll probably never see her daughter again because things are complicated but I made her a book of pictures, photos and things (beads and bracelets and so on) with envelopes to open and stories about her mum to read so I hope when she’s older she’ll find me – if she’s even a fraction of Uchenna (which she will be – many, many fractions) she is a friend I want in my life one day.
Sounds like Uchenna was a lovely person💜
apologies firstly if this is repeated, I typed a reply and it seems to have disappeared.
That was a lovely post to read, I think you can tell yourself that she knew she had a good friend in you and you in her. I have lost many people over the years, my husband being one, who very quickly and suddenly died in his 50s. You are right that grief takes a while in that you are numb, you function and busy yourself until you are able to reflect on it. I can honestly say it took me nearly 5 years until I could speak about it without being really upset. Someone said to me at the time, one day you will find he is beside you and not in front of you, and they were right.
I truly hope her daughter comes to find you one day so you can share that mutual love between you. She sounds like a great kid.
Look after you too Jane, and know you were a great friend to her. Virtual hugs x