Tributes

Tribute by Children

Kofi Ayerakwa Boa-Essilfie writes

Daa, Adwoa’s call on the morning of 12 July 2026 was unnerving. After hours of anxious waiting, the doctors confirmed our deepest fear: you were gone.

The last few years were particularly difficult, and we desperately wanted to make you better. Yet, when I look beyond those years and reflect on your life, I am overwhelmed with gratitude for the many ways you shaped the person I have become.

Your discipline was unmatched. In our home, being late was simply unacceptable. After 8:00 p.m., there was nothing to watch on television — not because you forced us to sleep, but because you quietly removed television as an option. I still remember my frustration at missing Ghana’s 1993 match against Germany because it went beyond 8:00 p.m. Ghana eventually lost 6–1, so perhaps you spared me some pain!

Today, I understand. Without television, we naturally turned to our books. You created the space for us to read and study, and that discipline contributed immensely to our academic success. The rule I once found frustrating has become important enough for me to pass on to my children. A clear sign of how much you have shaped me.

When we secured our first jobs, your first concern was what time we were expected to report. For months, you woke us early to ensure we were never late. You even warned that the pastors should begin our wedding ceremonies without us if we failed to arrive on time.

You always showed up for me. When I fell in Class Three and struck my cheek against the corner of a desk, narrowly missing my eye, you rushed me to VALCO Hospital. As a child, I simply knew that Dad had come to take me to hospital. As a father myself, I now understand the fear and urgency behind your actions.

Your devotion extended to the wider family and to your roots. You deliberately created opportunities for us to know one another. At Denkyira Akropong, you were affectionately called “Daa N’Ase” — “Thank Him.” At Christmas and Easter, you would travel with confectionery for the children. Yet, true to character, they first had to assure you that they had bathed and behaved well. Even your generosity came with standards.

You believed in me when I doubted myself. When my high school admission interview invitation did not arrive and I was ready to give up, you reached out to the Vice Principal then to enquire. I had passed; the letter had simply been lost in the old postal system. That demonstrated your confidence in my abilities and your pride in me.

You prepared me beyond the classroom. From about age six, you enrolled me in lawn tennis lessons and drove me to training several times a week and later to tournaments. At ten, you enrolled me in swimming lessons. These required time, money and commitment, but you saw possibilities for your son that I was too young to see.

You were authentic. If you were pleased, we knew it; if you were unhappy, we knew that too. You never pretended to agree merely because it was convenient. Your directness was sometimes uncomfortable, but with you, what we saw was what we got. I now appreciate how rare and valuable that quality is.

My greatest inheritance from you is the discipline you instilled in me, the confidence you gave me, your love for family, your determination to excel and your commitment never to forget where we once came from.

I am grateful that you protected me, prepared me, believed in me and were proud of me. I am eternally grateful I had the privilege of calling you Daa. I now understand that you were preparing me for life; I could not fully appreciate it when I was younger.

Rest peacefully, Daa. I miss you, I love you and I will carry you with me for the rest of my life.

Abena Essilfie Lartey writes

Dada, I came home and you were not there to pick me up. This time you were not at home when I got there. The 12th of July was the day you left us. The moment I saw Adwoa’s message, my heart broke into pieces. Oh Dada, I am so sad — sad that you are gone, that I won’t hear your voice or see your face again; sad that you suffered so, and for all our love there was nothing we could do to keep you. Yet through my tears I thank God that you slipped away in peace, and that the pain which held you has finally let you go.

I am not sure I have fully come to terms with your passing, even though you tried to prepare us for it. I will miss you, Dada — your laughter, your smile, your singing. Just you.

As a child, I had the best daddy anyone could ask for, and I am grateful to God for giving me such a father — loving, strict, meticulous, kind, a disciplinarian and a philanthropist. You instilled in us values that stand out wherever I go. You taught us to be strong but kind, humble but never to be taken advantage of, quiet but capable. You are our number one cheerleader.

You taught us skills no one can ever take away. You always said, “I don’t have much to give you, but a good education and God are all I can give. Acquire knowledge, and no one can take it from you.”

I will always cherish the memories and the time you spent with us — excursions, games, wins, failures, laughter. Through it all, you were always there.

I will remember you coming home from church, whistling a hymn — you made us learn “Now Praise We Great and Famous Men” quite out of the blue. Hearing those hymns now brings tears to my eyes.

One of the things I admired most was your name, “Daa Nase.” I loved the stories you told of how you came by it. God bless you for the generosity and kindness that earned it.

In my adulthood, you were no less encouraging — always telling us to strive and to have faith. I remember when I had my second child, you would come home during my maternity leave, sit on the floor with me and the baby, and we would just chat about random things. Those quiet moments lifted me more than you could know.

You always said that anytime I felt down or things grew hard, I should read Psalm 91. And when I had to make one of the biggest decisions of my life, you said to me: “You can do it. I believe in you. With God, all will be well.”

Your last days were trying, but you persisted; you hated to show us your pain, and seeing it broke my heart.

This tribute does not do justice to the incredible person you are. I thank God for the memories we have of you, the time we shared, and the values you instilled in us. We will cherish them always. Even with a heavy heart, I say: thank you, Daddy. Thank you. Though our journey with you here has ended, we will always remember you and hold you close. I only wish I had said this to you more clearly. Thank you.

I love you, and I always will. I will miss you dearly, and I hope you are happy and well. Sleep well, Daddy — your spirit has returned to God who gave it, and one day we will meet again. (Ecclesiastes 12:7)

Adwoa Essilfia Ofosu writes

Dada, this is still somewhat surreal for me. When Collins knocked on my door in the early hours of July 12th, I thought it was another emergency which required you to be taken to the hospital. Little did I know you had already bid us farewell.

The last few years have not been easy for you. Moving in and out of the hospital — I know you hated it, but we did what we thought was best for you. Although I wish you were still here with us, I am glad that you have found rest and have been relieved of all the pain you endured.

I am thankful for the principles and values of truthfulness, discipline, timeliness and proactiveness which you instilled in me.

I hated the radish, salads, and marmite you used to eat, but I dare say that it has caught on with me and I have become quite the ‘healthy food’ advocate. Oh, except for tomatoes, which I still cannot eat raw.

Thank you for teaching me to always believe in myself and to know that I am capable of anything once I put my mind to it. Thank you for the care and love you showed to my children, and I am eternally grateful for the time they got to spend with you.

I know that this is not the end. We will meet again — but until then, rest in the bosom of the Almighty.

Tribute by Grandchildren

Emily Naa Larley, Emmanuel Nii Lartey and Ethan Nii Lartei Lartey write

Grandpa David. So many memories are tied to his name. To me, you were the grandpa who was always calm — or, as my generation would simply say, chill.

One of the first memories that comes to mind whenever I think of you is the summer of 2019. My younger brother Emmanuel and I spent a month in Ghana, in the same house that has always been there for as long as I can remember. I remember Grandma constantly telling me to tear myself away from my iPad and the few games I had on it, and to go outside and play. But you always defended me, in that calm tone and with that warm smile — and my seven-year-old self couldn’t help lighting up and smiling right back. Half because I finally had someone on my side, and half because I simply couldn’t help smiling whenever you did.

I remember, too, how you would drive the two of us to a local store and buy us Fanyogo, while I tried my very best not to stain the inside of the car. The smiles on all our faces in those moments are something I will never forget. How relaxed you looked coming back from playing tennis. How we would all sit together in that living room — Emmanuel playing with his LEGO in one corner, me with my dolls on the sofa, and you watching the news. Every moment with you was peaceful, and every memory I have of you is a happy one. Looking back, I have no regrets about the time my brother and I shared with you. If I had one wish, it would simply be that we had been given more of it.

Alongside my own memories, I would always ask Mummy to tell me stories of her childhood and all her memories with you. I love hearing about the grandpa I didn’t get to see as often as I wanted, because I couldn’t go to Ghana as much as I wished. You were so deeply loved, so widely respected, and so devoted to your family. Mummy’s stories never fail to make me laugh, and they remind me just how special you are. Through them, I came to know another side of you — the father my mum grew up with. She often tells me how you would pick me up from school when she couldn’t, or how you helped care for Emmanuel when he was still a baby. Those stories make me appreciate just how quietly and consistently you showed your love.

I also remember how you were before you left us. The last time I saw you was in April this year. You didn’t see me, because you were asleep — but I saw you. I remember the pain you seemed to be in, even as you slept. I saw how much your body had changed as it fought against the illness within you. Mummy had told me, but imagining it is nothing compared to the reality. I remember how defeated I felt, knowing there was nothing I could do to help you, and how desperately I wanted your pain to be lifted from you. I prayed that night for God to take that pain away, so you could be the smiling grandpa I remember. I know He relieved it — even though it means you are no longer with us.

My memories of you will never be forgotten, and I will never stop asking Mummy for stories about you. Although my youngest brother, Ethan, is too young to remember you himself, I hope he will come to know you through our memories. I will tell him about the man you were, and I will always prompt Mummy to share with him the same stories she shared with me. I hope that while you are with our Father in Heaven, you are looking down on my brothers and me with pride. I will keep living my life in the hope of making you as proud as I possibly can.

Though we wish we had been given more time with you, we are grateful for every moment we did.

Nana Kofi Boa and Effie Boa-Essilfie write

Dear Grandpa, we are very sad that you are no longer here with us, but we are also thankful to God that we got to have you as our Grandpa.

You made us feel special in so many ways. We especially loved the nice nicknames you gave us. They made us smile and made us feel close to you. They were a little way of reminding us that we were loved by our Grandpa.

You always encouraged us to study hard and to do our best so that we could grow up and become great people. When we did something wrong, you corrected us, and when we did something good, you praised us. You wanted us to know right from wrong and to always try to be better.

Whenever we were feeling down, you were there to encourage us and push us not to give up. You were kind to us every time we were with you, and those are memories we will always keep in our hearts.

The Bible says, “Children’s children are a crown to the aged.” We hope that we made you proud to be our Grandpa, because we were very proud and happy to be your grandchildren.

We will miss seeing you, hearing you call us by our special nicknames, and having you encourage us. It is very sad to see you go, but we know that God loves you even more than we do. We believe that you are resting peacefully in His care.

Thank you, Grandpa, for loving us, teaching us and always wanting the best for us. We promise to keep studying hard, doing good things and trying to become the great people you always encouraged us to be.

We love you very much, Grandpa. We will miss you, and we will never forget you. Rest peacefully in the arms of God until we meet again.

Tribute by In-Laws

Ama Oforiwaa Boa-Essilfie writes

Scripture reminds us in Proverbs 10:7 that the memory of the righteous is a blessing, and today I am reminded once again that while death separates us, a life lived for God leaves behind a legacy.

I first met Daddy in 2010, and he welcomed me with warmth and kindness such that I never once felt like an outsider. He was not just my father-in-law; he became another father.

My late mother loved him dearly. We affectionately called him “Barima Yaw” in our home. She would always remind me to visit him and joked that in another setting I would be taking fufu to him every weekend as a daughter-in-law. It touched me deeply that after he passed, several people told me, “Your mum was always asking me to pray for him.” He simply inspired love beyond his own home.

My children loved their Grandpa David. It was an honour to have named our son after him — a man of integrity, humility, and innate joy.

Thank you, Daddy, for raising a fine gentleman of a son; for the values you instilled in him and constantly pushing him towards excellence. Every day, I see pieces of you in Kofi and I am eternally grateful.

I will miss the trivial things that made you uniquely you. How mindful of time you were, because you believed punctuality was a mark of respect. I will miss your stories about your years in Germany — you told them with such pride and humour, they never got old. I will even miss your passionate speeches about over-spiritualizing everything. You had a way of challenging us to pair our faith with wisdom.

For over a decade, I have known what my 1st of January would look like. The thought of a New Year’s Day without you is one I am still trying to come to terms with. Yet, painful as your absence is, watching you struggle was painful too. We prayed, hoped, and believed, but there also comes a time when love means letting go. We are comforted knowing that you are finally at peace.

Thank you for your love, wisdom, smiles, and for the son you raised. You have left memories that will continue to shape generations after you. Please say hi to mummy for me. Rest well, Daa. Rest in eternal peace.

Emmanuel Nii Otu Lartey writes

“He has shown you, O man, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.” — Micah 6:8

When I think about you, Uncle David, I cannot think of a more fitting Scripture than this. You were a man who sought to do what was right, who treated people with kindness and humility, and who quietly lived out the values you believed in every day.

Today, we celebrate the life of a truly remarkable man — a loving husband, father, grandfather, brother, uncle, and friend. A man whose quiet strength, unwavering integrity, and gentle spirit left an enduring mark on everyone who had the privilege of knowing him.

One of the things I will always remember is listening to you share stories about your time in Germany. They were never just stories about another country. They were lessons about discipline, responsibility, hard work, and character. You would often speak about the values you experienced there and compare them with what you saw as the growing lack of discipline among younger generations. But it never came across simply as criticism. It came from a heart that genuinely wanted people to live with purpose, to respect others, and to take responsibility for their lives.

If there was one thing you stood for, Uncle David, it was integrity. You believed that a person’s word should mean something. You believed in earning your way through honest work rather than looking for shortcuts. It genuinely grieved you to see truth and integrity becoming increasingly rare in our society. You would often remind us that doing the right thing is not always the easiest thing — but it is always the right thing. More importantly, you didn’t just talk about those values; you lived them.

And yet, for someone with such strong convictions, you were one of the gentlest people anyone could ever meet. You had a calming presence about you. You never needed to raise your voice or draw attention to yourself. There was a quiet peace and steadiness about you that made people feel at ease whenever they were with you. Your life reminded us that true strength is not found in being loud or forceful, but in being gentle, patient, and consistent.

Another lesson you lived so beautifully was humility. In a world that encourages us to chase wealth, status, and possessions, you constantly reminded us that those things are not what matter most. You taught us that our character is worth more than our possessions, that people are always more important than things, and that a life of purpose is far richer than a life filled only with material success. You lived simply, loved deeply, and valued what truly lasts.

Perhaps one of the greatest gifts you gave us was hope. Whenever life became difficult, whenever circumstances felt overwhelming, you had a phrase you would often say: “Things will be fine.” Those were never empty words. They came from someone who had experienced life’s challenges, trusted God through them, and believed that God remains faithful even in our darkest moments. Somehow, hearing you say those words always brought peace.

Even today, as we gather with heavy hearts, I can almost hear your voice saying those words to us once again: Things will be fine. Not because life is easy, but because God is faithful.

When I think about your legacy, Uncle David, I don’t first think about achievements or possessions. I think about the values you leave behind: integrity, humility, discipline, gentleness, compassion, and hope. Those are treasures that cannot be measured, bought, or taken away. They are the inheritance you have left for all of us.

Today, we mourn because we loved you deeply. We will miss your wisdom, your quiet encouragement, your reassuring presence, and the example you set. But we are also profoundly grateful to God for the gift of your life and for the privilege of calling you family.

As we say goodbye, may we honour you not only with our words today, but with the lives we choose to live tomorrow. May we pursue truth as you did, walk in humility as you did, love people as you did, and place our hope in Christ as you did.

Rest peacefully, Uncle David. Thank you for your wisdom. Thank you for your example. Thank you for your kindness. Thank you for the quiet strength with which you lived your life. And thank you for reminding us, time and time again, that whatever we face: “Things will be fine.”

Today, those words mean more than they ever have before. And by God’s grace, we will hold on to them, knowing that in Christ, this goodbye is not forever. Rest well, Uncle David. Until we meet again.

Emil Amoako Ofosu writes

I have referred to you as Daa ever since we first met. You were always welcoming and accepted me into your home long before I even became part of your family.

I came to know you as a man of few words, but those few words always carried great weight and meaning. You stood for discipline, hard work, diligence, and, above all, truthfulness. I watched you from afar and always admired how you not only embodied these values but also expected them from others as virtues worthy of emulation.

If it were within our power, we would have asked that you stay with us a little longer. Yet we thank God for the precious years we shared with you. During those final years, we saw you smile, even through the pain, because of the joy and warmth your grandchildren brought to your heart whenever you saw them.

Daa, we will surely miss you, but we are comforted by the assurance that you are in a better place, resting in the presence of the Lord. Rest peacefully in the Lord’s bosom until we meet again.

Dr. and Mrs. Emmanuel Lartey write

“In the morning they are like grass which grows up. In the morning it flourishes and grows up; in the evening it is cut down and withers… So teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.” — Psalm 90:6, 12

The brevity of human life is poignantly captured in the words of the Psalmist. We emerge, flourish, and, in the fullness of time, return to the One who gave us life. Today, as we mourn the passing of the late Mr David Boa-Essilfie, whom we affectionately called Uncle David or King David, we do so with profound sorrow, yet with immense gratitude to God for the privilege of having shared so many memorable years with him.

A friendship that began at VALCO. Our relationship with Uncle David began in 1980, when Emmanuel joined VALCO. He was a distinguished Electrical Engineer, and his professionalism in his role was evident to all. Emmanuel had the privilege of working closely with Uncle David on a few projects, most notably the installation work in the Potrooms. Their professional association blossomed into a warm friendship.

From colleagues to family friends. Our association with Uncle David extended beyond the VALCO plant. Through him, we met his beloved wife, Mrs Christiana Boa-Essilfie, and their wonderful children. Our children grew up together and shared many happy moments, particularly at the VALCO Club House, where swimming, lawn tennis and eating cheeseburgers, hotdogs and ice cream provided opportunities for recreation and companionship.

A generous spirit. Uncle David’s generosity was not something one merely heard about; it was an attribute one experienced repeatedly. While Emmanuel interacted with Uncle David at the VALCO plant, Emelia had the opportunity to experience his generosity through her interactions with him at the Tema Industrial Area branch of GCB Bank PLC. His visits to the bank were often accompanied by VALCO lunch packs, which he readily shared with the staff. This was our first memorable encounter with the generosity that would become a defining hallmark of his life.

The marriage of our children: a deeper bond. As the years passed, in the mysterious providence of God, our families became even more closely intertwined when our son Nii Otu was blessed to marry Uncle David’s first daughter, Abena, some fifteen years ago. We remember the cultural sensitivity Uncle David showed in arranging the marriage. Although he was an Akan, he graciously expressed his admiration for the traditional marriage ceremony to be conducted in accordance with our Ga tradition, reflecting his desire for harmony between the two families. We still fondly remember the turkey buffet served at the knocking ceremony, as well as the beautifully prepared, exquisite parcels presented at the traditional marriage ceremony. Once again, Uncle David demonstrated that generosity was not merely something he practised occasionally; it was woven into the fabric of his personality.

A bond strengthened by family. The marriage of our children brought our two families even closer. Uncle David and Auntie Christie’s regular visits to our home were always anticipated and invariably accompanied by generous Christmas packages, often arriving in large ice chests filled with provisions and gifts for the Lartey family. They were always present at the significant occasions in our lives, whether weddings, funerals, birthday celebrations, family gatherings, or any other important event.

His faith, his fellowship, and his final days. In the past year, Uncle David’s health began to decline, and his physical activities became increasingly limited. He once assured us that he would wish to be alive to celebrate our granddaughter Larley’s 20th birthday. We continued to visit and share fellowship with Uncle David and Auntie Christie. Those occasions became increasingly precious to us. Amid our conversations and fellowship, Uncle David would joyfully sing his favourite hymn, MHB 313, “To God be the glory, great things he has done!”

A legacy of generosity and love. As we mourn Uncle David, our consolation lies in the words of our Lord Jesus Christ in John 14:2: “My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you?”

Uncle David, we will remember the warmth of your friendship, the joy of your fellowship, your generosity, your laughter, your thoughtful gestures, and, above all, the many ways you enriched the lives of those around you. As we bid you farewell, Uncle David, we do so with grateful hearts for the privilege of knowing you and for the many years of friendship and family fellowship we were blessed to share with you.

Uncle David, Kind David, rest in perfect peace. Rest peacefully in the bosom of the Lord.

Tribute by Nephews and Nieces

Mary Abena Agyapomaa Essilfie writes

My beloved Dada Last, Yaw Nkrumah, words are not enough to express the depth of my gratitude for the love, guidance, kindness, and fatherly care you showed me throughout my life. To me, you were far more than a family member — you were a mentor, a father figure, a guardian, and a true blessing from God.

Our journey together began many years ago at Bantama Nurses’ Quarters, when my father was a nurse at Komfo Anokye Teaching Hospital. From the very beginning, you took a special interest in me and encouraged me to study hard and strive to become one of the best young ladies from Denkyira Kyekyewere. Your words of encouragement stayed with me and helped shape the woman I became.

Even when you travelled to Germany and I was working at Barclays Bank, now Absa Bank, at the Takoradi High Street Branch, we remained in constant communication. When you returned to Ghana, you came to Takoradi to visit me while I was pregnant. After I gave birth, you travelled down again and named my daughter after your own father, Opanyin Kwaku Ayerakwa, giving her the beautiful name Ivy Eva Ayerakwa. What a great honour that was. Thank you, Dada Last, for giving my daughter a name so deeply connected to our family and heritage.

My transfer to Accra brought us even closer. You loved my three children as though they were your own. After the passing of my father, our bond became even stronger. You stepped in when I needed you most and helped me send my father home for burial. You were never a distant father. Whenever you did not hear from me for some time, you would drive all the way from Tema to Dansoman just to check on me and the children. And whenever I visited you, I would return home with almost everything in the house! That was the kind-hearted man you were — generous, loving, and always ready to give.

For the 38 years since my father passed away, you never allowed me to feel alone. When, after many years, I finally found a husband, you were the one who proudly gave my hand in marriage in grand style at the Mateheko Roman Catholic Church. You went above and beyond to make the occasion special, organising the reception with the help of your dear wife, Mrs. Christiana Boa-Essilfie. I will forever cherish that beautiful gesture.

Dada Last, you were present at every important stage of my life. When the Methodist Church elevated me to the position of Connexional Women’s Fellowship Secretary, you and your dear wife were there at my induction service at Bethel Methodist Church, Kasoa, to encourage and support me. Your presence meant so much to me.

When my mother passed away at Kyekyewere, you stood in the place of your late brother, Mr. Albert Kweku Essilfie, and performed the customary rites on his behalf. Once again, you showed me that I could always count on you.

And when my husband passed away three years ago, you called to console me. Sadly, because of your advancing age, you could not be physically present, but your heart was with us. You sent money to the family home to help us hire a car for the burial, and you also made a donation. Even when you could not come yourself, your love found a way to be present.

Dada Last, you were there for me through the joys, the challenges, the celebrations, and the painful moments of my life. You gave without counting the cost, loved without conditions, and supported me without hesitation. You became the father I could always turn to.

My children and I will forever miss you. We will carry your love, your kindness, your wisdom, and your beautiful memories in our hearts. I will never forget the respect, affection, and generosity you showed us throughout the years.

We prayed fervently that God would heal you and give you more years with us. But at the appointed time, the Almighty, in His infinite wisdom, called you home. Though our hearts are broken, we submit to His will and take comfort in knowing that you have returned to your Maker.

Thank you, Dada Last, for loving me. Thank you for loving my children. Thank you for standing by us. Thank you for being my father in so many ways. Your legacy of love and kindness will live on in us.

Dada Last, rest peacefully in the bosom of the Almighty God until we meet again. Agya Pa, Da Yie. You will forever remain in our hearts.

Tribute by Grand Nephews and Nieces

Sita Nana Mansah Afriyie Abunyewa writes

Dada Last, as everyone affectionately called him, was not just a family head. To me, he was my one and only grandpa — my personal go-to person, my guide, and my pillar.

The first time I met him, he welcomed me with his big smile and warm embrace when he visited us at home. I was still in secondary school. Shortly after, he hosted a party at his home in Tema, bringing the whole family together. His sole aim was for everyone to know one another and to uphold the true meaning of “unity is strength.” What a great family head he was.

I remember his speech at that party so clearly, even though many may have forgotten it. He said, and I quote: “If we all help each other, no one will come begging another, and we will all grow together. If one person is up the ladder, the burden of pulling everyone else is too much. But if he keeps pulling others to join him, it becomes easier. Once it’s easier and all of us are comfortable, we can enjoy life together. What joy is there in seeing your family member suffer? And if these children grow up not knowing their family and roots, then we have failed as parents.”

Right after that speech, I told my late father, “This is truly a modern-day grandpa.” From that day, I met most of my maternal family members who played major roles in my growth — with Uncle Apenteng being one of them. Before that party, I only knew Mama Mary and Dada Last. Do you see how visionary my grandpa was?

During university: Grandpa always checked on me. When I got admission, I didn’t get a room on campus and had to rent a hostel outside. He worked tirelessly to get me a room in Pentagon, as popularly known in Legon. He wanted me close to family so I would be protected. Adjoa was in Pentagon, and he asked her to look out for me. This was my grandpa.

After university: When I secured a job at GCB, he came home himself to make sure I was fully prepared for my station in Techiman. I remember that day clearly — he went with my mum to the storeroom where my things were packed and asked her if I had everything I needed and how I planned to transport them. He didn’t call. He came home. Grandpa came to see for himself.

When I was about to get married: I told him, and he said, “I will come and meet him myself and assess him. Don’t worry, my Sita.” Once again, Grandpa came home and met my soon-to-be husband. He called me aside and advised me on marriage and what to look out for in a man. He was a key person in my marriage. He arrived before any other family member.

In times of loss: When my paternal grandmother died, Grandpa went with us all the way to Asante Mampong. He stayed with us and returned with us. When my father passed on, he was the first person in the house, ensuring everything was in place — both for the one-week celebration and the cremation.

Tribute by Church

Immanuel Methodist Church, Jordan and Mount Sinai Bible Classes write

“He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the former things have passed away.” — Revelation 21:4 (NIV)

It was with deep sorrow and heavy hearts that we received the news of the passing of our beloved brother, Bro. David Boa Essilfie. Although we were aware that he had battled a serious illness for almost two years — an illness that gradually prevented him from attending church services and Bible Class meetings as faithfully as he desired — we never imagined that the Lord would call him home at this time. In moments like these, we are reminded that our times are in God’s hands, and we humbly submit to His sovereign will, trusting that He knows what is best.

Bro. David Boa Essilfie joined the Immanuel Methodist Church, Tema C11, in the latter part of 1993 and was assigned to Bro. Haizel’s Bible Class, which then met at Bro. Haizel’s residence in the VALCO Flats, Community 12. The Bible Class later relocated to the residence of Bro. Asare in Community 11, and throughout these transitions, Bro. Boa Essilfie remained a faithful and committed member.

Subsequently, the Bible Class came under the leadership of Bro. Samuel Anaafi Ampaw and became known as the Jordan Bible Class. Today, it forms part of the joint Jordan/Mt. Sinai Bible Classes, under the leadership of Bro. Samuel Anaafi Ampaw and Sis. Eva Haizel. Through every stage of the Bible Class’s growth and development, Bro. Boa Essilfie remained steadfast in his commitment to Christian fellowship.

Affectionately known to us as Bro. Boa Essilfie, he was a devoted Christian who had accepted Jesus Christ as his Lord and Saviour and looked to show his faith through a life of commitment, humility, and service. He attended Bible Class meetings faithfully, took part actively in discussions, and consistently enriched our fellowship with his thoughtful and insightful contributions. His absences were rare and occurred only when he was travelling or, later, when his illness made attendance impossible. He was equally faithful in paying his tithes, class dues, and other financial commitments, reflecting his dedication to God’s work.

When illness prevented him from attending Bible Class meetings, members of the Class remained in close contact with him through regular phone calls and visits. On some occasions, the Bible Class met in his home so that he could continue to enjoy Christian fellowship despite his physical condition. These moments testified to the strong bond of love and unity that existed among us.

Bro. Boa Essilfie also had a brief period of membership with the Immanuel Methodist Men’s Fellowship. Although his time with the Fellowship was relatively short, he distinguished himself through diligence, commitment, and active participation whenever his health permitted.

Throughout his period of illness, the Church stood with him in prayer. Our Ministers, Stewards, Bible Class members, and other church members visited him regularly to encourage him spiritually and assure him of our love and support. Even in the midst of pain and physical weakness, he welcomed every visitor with warmth, gratitude, and his ever-present cheerful smile. His joy and unwavering faith were a source of encouragement to all who visited him.

During his admission at the IMaH Hospital, the Ministers and Stewards continued to visit and pray earnestly for his recovery. We remained hopeful that he would regain his strength and return to worship and fellowship with us once again. We eagerly anticipated hearing his thoughtful contributions during our Bible discussions. Sadly, God, in His infinite wisdom, had a different plan.

The announcement of his passing on Sunday, 19th July 2026, came as a great shock to the entire Church family. Many of us found the news difficult to believe and called one another in disbelief, hoping it was not true. Eventually, we had to accept the painful reality that our beloved brother had completed his earthly race and had been called to his eternal home with the Lord.

Today, the Immanuel Methodist Church, the Jordan/Mt. Sinai Bible Classes, the Men’s Fellowship and the entire membership of the Church mourn the loss of a cherished brother. We shall greatly miss his cheerful smile, gentle spirit, and the thoughtful, inspiring contributions he consistently made during our Bible discussions. His humility, kindness, and unwavering commitment to Christian fellowship enriched our lives and strengthened our faith. Though his place among us is now vacant, the memories of his life and his example of faithful Christian living will remain with us for many years to come.

Indeed, we have lost a kind-hearted brother, a faithful disciple of Christ, and a devoted member of our Church family. Yet, even in our grief, we are comforted by the assurance of God’s Word that those who die in Christ rest from their labours and await the glorious resurrection. We therefore hold firmly to the blessed hope that, by the grace of God, we shall meet again on that glorious Resurrection Morning when death shall be no more.

Farewell, Bro. David Boa Essilfie. You fought the good fight, you finished the race, and you kept the faith. May the Lord grant you eternal rest until we meet again in His everlasting Kingdom. Nyame mfa wo kra nsie yie. Amen.

Immanuel Methodist Church Men’s Fellowship writes

“He has shown you, O man, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God?” — Micah 6:8

It is with deep sorrow and heavy hearts that we pay this tribute to the memory of our beloved brother and friend, Mr. David Boa Essilfie.

Mr. Boa Essilfie was among the dedicated men who joined Immanuel Methodist Church at its start, back at the old site of the Methodist Day Secondary School (MEDASS). He joined the society together with his family and stayed an integral part of its growth and development over the years.

He was an affable yet remarkably soft-spoken man, whose warm smile made him approachable and easy to relate to. His steady, calm presence in the rear pews — his favourite spot in the church — brought a comforting reassurance to those around him.

We genuinely believe his life was a testament to the words of 1 Thessalonians 4:11: “Make it your ambition to lead a quiet life: You should mind your own business and work with your hands.”

As a devoted father who deeply loved his children, he consistently encouraged them to attend Sunday School, a guidance they faithfully followed. Although his demanding work schedule and frequent travels often limited his regular attendance at Fellowship meetings, the light he shone alongside other members served as an enduring inspiration for more men to join the Fellowship.

As a true Methodist, one of Mr. Boa Essilfie’s defining traits was the joy and enthusiasm with which he sang the hymns. He was also one of the few who wore the Men’s Fellowship safari cloth with unmatched grace and elegance. He quietly served the church behind the scenes, never seeking praise or public recognition. We remember with fond gratitude his generous donation of a professional Yamaha keyboard to the Teens’ Service on the occasion of his daughter’s wedding.

A life well-lived is a precious gift — a source of hope, strength, and grace from someone who made our world a better and brighter place.

Brother David Boa Essilfie, rest, rest, rest peacefully in the bosom of our Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ. Amen.

Tributes shared here are delivered directly to the family.

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