The smell of the rain was always one of my favorite things about the rainy season. I would close my eyes and inhale the wind; almost like I could taste the rain then it would hit my tastebuds and take them on the most beautiful trip.

The only thing that beat the rain would be the look and feel of the house. Curtains down, lights off, and for that particular morning, a candlelit table with hot tea and slices of bread neatly arranged on different saucers beside one another.

Whenever the rain began, aunty Eme would prepare something nice, something fitting for the moment just before going around our various rooms and calling on each of us to gather around the dining table and eat.

She would then proceed to tell us a story which she always began by repeatedly singing "Iro" for ten seconds. On rare occasions, she would ask if we wanted to see a movie instead but we genuinely enjoyed story time with her, so we always declined.

Aunty Eme was nothing but pure joy. I'm telling you this, so you can understand my confusion when I came home from school on a very stressful Tuesday to hear she had gone home.

"I don't understand. Home how? Why? When?" These were my immediate questions to my mum. I honestly wanted to understand. Aunty Eme would never leave without saying goodbye.

I could hear the trembling in my mum's voice, as well as notice her eyes shine bright red. It was quite easy to detect she had been crying. Now I just had to understand why.

I decided to find my brother and tell him what I had just heard but as I approached his room, I saw the door to aunty Eme's room wide open from the corner of my eye. I immediately noticed her bags and belongings laying neatly in a closet as she always properly organized them. I wished I hadn't seen them, because then it began to click.

I rushed into my brother's room to find him and Anwuli, my 12-year-old sister weeping on the floor. Just before I spoke, she noticed me and rushed towards me crying "I overheard Daddy on the phone, she had Cancer and she didn't tell us, nobody told us".

I was numb. Amazed at how ephemeral life was. We made plans together, I was supposed to teach her how to make twists and in exchange, she would teach me how to make her famous groundnut soup. Those plans were now gone, and so was she.

I silently walked back to my room and lay on the bed. Maybe if I acted like I didn't hear anything, I would go back to sleep and wake up to learn it was all a bad dream. Just as I was about to stretch and get my pillow, I heard the roaring sound of thunder and my eyes began to water. A few seconds after, I burst out crying.

The rain came pouring down, and for a slight moment in between my tears, I felt a tiny wave of peace; as though she was speaking to me, telling me she was fine.