A Tribute to Emmanuel Dorecles Eledi

"Let he who has watered, be watered."

Some lives are too vast to be contained in mere words. Some loves too deep to be measured. A great tree does not fall unnoticed in the forest, nor does a river dry up without leaving behind traces of its path. Daa, you were one of those rare souls whose presence was both a shelter and a guiding light.

You were more than an uncle—you were my father, my mentor, my refuge. You took me in, not out of duty, but out of love. You saw in me what others did not. You shaped my path when I was too young to walk it alone.

A Child of the Heart
"The true father is not the one who gives birth, but the one who raises the child."

Many who know me believe I am your biological son—because that is how you raised me. Not for once did I feel I didn’t belong. Before my father passed, you had already claimed me as yours. You did not need blood to bind us; your love was enough. You were a father to me long before the world expected you to be.

I remember how I would call out, “Daa! Daa!” over and over until you answered. It didn’t matter how busy you were—you always answered. Even now, I find myself calling your name in my heart, hoping somehow, somewhere, you can still hear me.

A Father Not Just to Me, But to Many
"A home is not built with walls but with love."

You had a heart too vast for just one family. Your love stretched beyond blood, beyond obligation. Even in your retirement, when many would have chosen rest, you chose to give.

I remember how you poured yourself into Wa Children’s Home, how you turned our house into a place where no child was ever turned away. You saw the homeless, the forgotten, the ones with no one to call their own—and you became their father.

I would come home to find strangers at our table, yet to you, they were never strangers. They were yours. Just as I was.

"A person is a person because of others," they say. You lived this truth. You didn’t just welcome people into your home; you welcomed them into your heart.

Now I understand where I got that from. When people wonder how I can blend into any space, how I can speak to anyone and make them feel at ease, I smile—because I know. It was you, Daa. I learned from the best.

He Preached Togetherness and Lived It
"When the drum beats, the people must dance."

You didn’t just believe in peace, family, and oneness—you embodied them. You made every occasion special, every gathering an opportunity to bring people together. Christmas, Easter, or any celebration was never complete without your touch.

I remember how we would stay up dancing until dawn. Even when everyone else had left, you stayed with me, dancing and dancing, as though the music was in our souls and time had no hold over us. Those moments were ours, and I hold onto them dearly.

"A child who washes his hands clean will eat with elders." You taught me that respect and wisdom open doors. And so, I watched you closely, Daa. I listened to your words, studied your ways, learned the lessons you taught—not through instructions, but through the life you lived.

Your Words, My Lifeline
If love was the foundation, you built me on, then wisdom was the armour you clothed me with. Your words were never just advice—they were light in my darkest moments, strength in my weakest hours, and direction when I felt lost.

"Do not be afraid of the path ahead. If a door shuts, look for another. And if doors are scarce, turn to the windows. Keep moving. Keep believing. Keep becoming."

These were your words. They have carried me through some of my hardest days. Whenever life has felt overwhelming, whenever doubts have tried to creep in, I have clung to your voice.

You didn’t just tell me to dream—you made me believe my dreams were worth pursuing. You saw my potential when I was blind to it. And for that, I will always be grateful.

The Last Hug
"When the elder blesses you, his words do not fall to the ground."

Then came that final moment. That hug. The one that still lingers—not just on my skin, but in my soul, in the quiet corners of my heart where your presence still dwells.

I was leaving for Accra, and you stood there, arms open, waiting—not just to embrace me, but to leave something with me. When you pulled me close, it was as if time stood still. You held me as though you were pouring the last of your strength into me.

Go on, your eyes seemed to say. Live. Love. Be all that you were meant to be.

Now, when I think back, I wonder—was it a goodbye? Did you know? Did your heart whisper something to you that mine could not yet hear?

Because even now, when the world feels too heavy, I close my eyes, and I am there again—in your arms, in that moment, held by a love that neither time nor distance can erase.

A Legacy That Lives On
"A mighty tree may fall, but its roots remain strong."

Even though you are gone, your presence lingers—woven into the very fabric of who I am. In the way I love without hesitation, in the way I give without expecting in return. In the way I open my doors and arms to others, just as you did. In the way I dare to dream, in the way I rise after every fall, in the way I refuse to let failure be the end of my story.

But most of all, you live on in your children—Cynthia, Joyce, Abigail, Sheila, and Fiona. In their strength, in their kindness, in their unwavering resilience. I watch them, and I see you.

"The sun may set, but its light still warms the earth." That is, you, Daa. You are gone, yet your warmth remains.

The Empty Space, The Unforgotten Love
"No matter how long the night, the sun will rise again."

Daa, I miss you. More than words can say. There are days when the weight of your absence feels unbearable. There are moments when I wish I could hear your voice just one more time, feel your embrace, sit by your side and listen to your laughter.

I have kept the phone that holds your messages, refusing to let go. Apple says the iOS cannot be updated, but that doesn’t matter to me. I don’t need an update. I just need to hold on to that piece of you. Even as I carry a new phone, that old one remains a treasure—because it still holds your voice, your words, your love.

There are times I have chills thinking about you. I find myself staring at the sky, wondering if you are watching over us, smiling at all that we have become.

Daa, you watered so many lives, and though you are gone, your roots remain deep in our hearts. The seeds you planted in us will bloom for generations to come.

Rest well, knowing you were, and will always be, deeply loved.

#Puobabangna

By Victor Raul Puobabangna Plance from Eggu in the Upper West Region of Ghana