For Nana 
Spoken by his older siblings — Sheila, Victoria, and Jeremiah — and the nieces and nephews who called him Uncle 
We are here today not because we are ready, but because we must be. Our brother Nana — the youngest of four, the baby of our family — has gone ahead of us at twenty-seven years old. 
We will not pretend to have the words for this. We will only try to tell you who he was. 
Nana had the kind of spirit that filled a room without ever demanding it. He was kind without effort, generous without keeping count, funny without trying. He was a gentle one. He gave more than he took. He listened more than he spoke. And he made everyone he met feel like they mattered — because to him, they did. 
He had a gift for friendship. He turned acquaintances into companions, and companions into family. He made people feel seen. He made people feel chosen. Our brother had the quiet genius of making strangers feel at home. 
And then there were the children — his nieces and nephews — whom he loved across an ocean. 
This is the part that breaks us most. Because some of them never met him in person. They knew him as a voice on a telephone. A face on a screen. A promise of next year, I’ll come, you’ll see me. And yet they loved him as fiercely as if he had raised them himself. They wrote him letters. We would like to read from them now, because no eulogy ever written by an adult could match the truth of what a child knows about love. 
“My uncle was more than just family. He was a friend, a mentor, and a guiding light. He had a kind heart, a gentle spirit, and a smile that could brighten even the darkest day. He taught us the value of hard work, respect, and love for one another.” 
— Nana Kwame 
“The lessons he taught me will guide my footsteps every day.” 
— Nana Kofi 
“I miss you, Uncle Naana. You promised we would see you soon. I will always love you.” 
— Junior 
“I never got to see you with my own eyes. Only on the phone. Why so soon, Uncle? My love, Uncle.” 
— Akua Ased

It’s hard to find the right words when a life is taken so suddenly. Our hearts are heavy as we try to process the loss of our dear cousin—someone who meant so much to all of us in ways that words can barely capture.

You were more than family; you were a presence that brought warmth, laughter, and a sense of togetherness wherever you went. Your smile had a way of lighting up the room, and your spirit left a lasting impression on everyone who had the privilege of knowing you.

Though your time with us feels far too short, the memories we shared will stay with us forever. We will remember the jokes, the conversations, the moments of joy, and even the quiet times that meant more than we realized. Those memories now become treasures we hold onto tightly.

This loss has left a space in our hearts that can never be filled, but your legacy lives on through each of us—in the love you gave, the kindness you showed, and the impact you made in our lives.

Rest peacefully, dear cousin. You will always be loved, always remembered, and never forgotten.
With love from your family

Naana, it’s been a very difficult time for us since you left us, and words fail us as we attempt to make sense of all that has happened in the last few weeks. 10 years ago, you went through a difficult phase, but that didn’t break you—because you were strong and because God wanted to keep around much longer. Only God knows why he allowed you to leave us this time. It’s tough, and no parent should—EVER— bury their child! 
You were not just our son: you were a friend, a confidante, a pillar of strength in difficult times, and a source of great pride. You lit up the atmosphere anytime you walked into a room. In fact, we always looked forward to your return from work. You had an incredible ability to lift others up and to make them feel heard and loved. Even on your most challenging days, you somehow found a way to smile, to reassure us, as if to remind us that no matter what life threw our way, we’d get through it together.
We never heard a bad word said about you, Naana. You cared so much that you gave up your life to save others or in service of humanity. At the family level, you’d often find out if we had eaten and you’d join us eat from the same bowl. You hated seeing any of us in discomfort, and you’d be quick to help when you thought we needed one. Outside the family, you went above and beyond for others. You loved humanity and you never thought twice about who you associated with irrespective of their economic, racial, cultural, or physical disposition.  
We remember how you’d encourage us to stay fit so we’d live much longer to be around you. We listened to your advice, but you’re no longer with us. You broke your promise to us, Naana. You told us to live longer so that we’d witness your wedding ceremony and shape the lives of your wife and kids. Our support system, Naana, you have left a big vacuum that will never be filled by anyone. To us, your death is much like a dream that we are yet to wake up from. Maybe we will but, for now, we are not sure. We continue to implore the Lord to get us out of this never-ending dream. We hope the Lord will sustain us for the remainder of our lives. 
You were generous to a fault. Even when we wondered if you were not doing too much, you’d ask us to remain calm because it was the right thing to do. You had a heart full of kindness and a soul that never seemed to tire of giving. What will your many beneficiaries spread across Ghana and the United States do now? Naana, we will never forget the many times you offered your card or deposited money into our accounts to help with the bills at home and for shopping.  
You assured us that you’d be the greatest businessman that ever lived. In fact, you had set plans in motion by putting together a network of friends both in Ghana and the United States, but these plans have been cut short. 
Those who so deeply loved you never get tired of talking about your enduring impact in their lives. You led many to Christ, and the results of the change in their lives are bearing fruits. Your friends tell us that you were not just a part of them, but you were the glue that held their union together. You knew how to be there for others in the most genuine way, knowing exactly when to offer a listening ear, a comforting word, or simply your quiet presence. We cry each time we see your friends without you. 
As painful as your death has been, we are proud that you were with us for the time God allowed you to be with us. We are proud to have called you a son and are honored by the impact you made on this world. We know you do not want us to dwell on your loss. You’d want us to remember the joy, the laughter, and the affection you brought to this world.  
Today, we join all who called you friend and family to honor your legacy. Our physical time with you is over. So, Naana, please promise to put your hands over us and one in God’s hand and guide us along this journey till we meet again. We’ll miss you!



OBITUARY

Jonathan Boachie-Yiadom

March 17, 1999 – April 8, 2026

Earthman Southwest Funeral Home

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