“Do you not know that a man is not dead while his name is still spoken?” - Terry Pratchett
Obituary
It is with profound grief that the Ghansah, Agbenyo, Otoo, and allied families announce the passing of their beloved husband, father, son, and brother, Samuel Kweku Gyan Ghansah, whose sad event occurred on Saturday, August 29, in Birmingham, England.
Born on September 10, 1980, Kweku is an Old Boy of Mfantsipim School (MOBA 1998) and a member of the Vandals Class of 2004.
The fourth of the five children of the late Michael Ghansah and Elizabeth Ghansah, Kweku was known for his ability to put a smile on anyone's face. Wise beyond his years, he knew the importance of laughter and how much it brightened the day. The broad smile he always wore heralded his positive attitude to life.
Kweku was also kind, supportive, and loving. It is no wonder he made a career out of caring for the old and the mentally challenged.
A great husband and father, he leaves behind a sad widow, Abigail, and three wonderful sons, Michael, Shaun, and Ian. His mother and four siblings also survive him.
Kweku's passing leaves a space that cannot be filled. Yet the memories, lessons, and moments shared will live on in the hearts of those fortunate enough to have known him.
Kweku Gyan, you will be deeply missed and lovingly remembered.
Funeral Announcement
Please click on the link below to see the funeral poster.
Memorial Service - Brochure
Please click below to be taken to the brochure for the memorial service
Tributes
TRIBUTE FROM ABIGAIL GHANSAH, THE WIDOW
“Those who walk uprightly enter into peace; they find rest as they lie in death.”
- Isaiah 57:2
On August 29, I lost my Bee, the love of my life, Kweku. With him, I found true love, and I can boldly say that if love were a person, it would be Samuel Kweku Gyan Ghansah.
My Bee was loving, kind, thoughtful, and considerate. No one ever met him without hearing about me repeatedly and how much he valued our union. He not only loved me deeply but also appreciated who I was. He would always tell the children to marry a woman like their mum.
After all these years, we still loved and argued like newlyweds. Bee, thank you for all the many years of date nights like new lovers, the flowers, and our love trips.
He was very funny, and he made me laugh so much. His broad smile always lit up his face.
As a father, he was amazing. Kweku, thank you for being an incredibly wonderful father to our children. Though he was ill, he remained a provider until the very end. I pray for the grace to step into your big boots to take care of our children.
We fell in love in our twenties. I was smitten by his kindness, intellect, wisdom, wit, and that mischievous glint in his eye. His good looks didn't hurt either. Even then, he was still that funny and loving man.
As we set out to build careers and a family, we faced many challenges, but he always remained the loving and supportive man I fell in love with twenty-three years ago.
The health challenges were constant, but through it all, that broad smile never left his face, and he never stopped loving me.
Kweku, in you I found the love of my life. I miss us gossiping and being silly with you. I feel really lost, Bee. Above all, I appreciate that you remained consistent all these years, and the memories feel like three lifetimes. I will always love you, Bee.
Your procrastination and tardiness on every occasion used to annoy me, but I will accept you being ten times as tardy and a procrastinator if it brings you back to me.
And since that is impossible, I dwell on the words in Psalm 121:
“I lift up my eyes to the mountains—
where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord,
the Maker of heaven and earth.”
Bee, I miss you! Michael, Shaun, and Ian miss you!
You are gone, but for us, you will always be present in the memories, your love, dedication, affection, and smile.
Bee, it was a privilege to have journeyed with you, and I’ll always love you.
Rest well in the bosom of the Lord!
Rest well till we meet again.
Your Abi!
CHILDREN’S TRIBUTE TO THEIR DAD
Our dad was a wonderful father. He took care of almost everything concerning us. He took us to school and helped us with school activities. He would go to great lengths to make sure we had everything we needed.
Dad was often on our side when we complained Mum had forgotten to do something she was supposed to do for us. He would sarcastically call her “Mother of the Year”.
However, the minute we broke a house rule, he teamed up with Mum against us. Though very lenient, he believed in discipline and could be strict. He always only needed to call us just once.
Though Dad loved all of us greatly, Ian was definitely the one who could get him to do anything for him. He would hold us down so Ian could playfully smack us. It made us all laugh.
We loved it when Dad spent time with us or when we watched football together. We also loved the trips we took as a family, especially the most recent one we took to the US.
Sadly, Dad is gone, but at least he is not in pain anymore. He is resting peacefully now, but we will miss him a lot.
Goodbye Dad!
We hope to see you again!
Your sons,
Michael, Shaun and Ian
MOTHER’S TRIBUTE
“Can you not wake from this white, cold sleep
And speak to me once again?
True that your slumber is deep, so deep,
But deeper by far is my pain.”
- Paul Laurence Dunbar
How do you even express the pain of losing a child? Where do you start? How can a mother overcome the hollowness that seems to envelop one’s being to utter or even write down what one feels?
Kweku Gyan was the fourth of my five children. All my children had qualities that set them apart, and he was the child who made me laugh ever since he could talk. Wise beyond his years, he said things that made one look up. He was eloquent, intelligent, and funny.
He would play pranks on his late father. After his dad passed, I became the lone subject of those pranks. But those pranks were not in bad faith. Not at all! They came from an intimate knowledge of who I was, my fears, my strengths, the things I loved, and hated. They came from someone who cared so much that he’d do anything to put a smile on your face and laughter in your heart.
Kweku, my son, was full of love. He gave of himself and had a kind heart. His hugs were warm and touched a mother’s heart, and his little gestures of affection won’t be forgotten. I watched him interact lovingly with his siblings, and later with his wife and children.
My son was strong. Despite all the health challenges he faced, he soldiered on through life. Nothing seemed ever to stop him. He was determined to be a good father and husband.
My son was a good Catholic who treasured his faith in God. He believed one’s faith was reflected in how one treated others and stayed generous till the end. Two days before he passed, our conversation was about faith, the love of God, and making his light shine through our deeds.
Kweku Gyan, you brought me so much joy when you were born. Now you are gone, and where that joy was, there is a deep hole that cannot be filled soon.
How do I say goodbye to my you? My sweet, wonderful Kweku with your disarming and mischievous smile?
Since my boy died, I have often asked God why. I have daily wondered why He would let any mother go through such pain. I have often wondered why He blessed me with Kweku, but then decided to take him away so untimely. And in the past days I have found solace in contemplating the pain the Blessed Mary must have felt when her son was crucified. And I know that the Holy Father will, in his own time, help me to deal with the pain.
Till then, I will dwell on the many memories his short life has left me with. His laughter, that broad smile, the mischievous glint in his eyes, the kind and loving heart, and that wisdom that never faded.
Moreover, as it stated in Romans 14:8, “If we live, we live for the Lord; and if we die, we die for the Lord. So, whether we live or die, we belong to the Lord.”
So I know my Kweku is safe in the bosom of the Lord.
Kweku Gyan…Kweku…my son, fare well!
As St. Augustine did, I’ll let my tears flow freely so they become a pillow for my heart. A heart forever filled with love.
I’ll always remember the joy you brought me.
Till we meet again, rest well, my son.
Your mum,
Betty!
TRIBUTE FROM SIBLINGS
“Where there’s humility there is majesty; where there’s weakness, there’s might; where there is death, there’s life.”
- St. Augustine of Hippo
Since Dad passed in 2008, we, the children of Michael and Elizabeth Ghansah, have sought to maintain even closer family bonds. Though we lived far from each other on different continents, we have strived, not always successfully, to see each other.
The last time was when our mum turned 80 in March 2025.
Nana’dzie, Paakow, Abi, Kweku, Kojo.
Unbeknownst to us, it was the last time we were ever going to be together as siblings. Little did we know that, seventeen months later, we would lose him suddenly.
Growing up, Kweku dazzled us with his prowess on the football field, his ability to get on with everyone- I mean everyone, his popularity, his silky smooth singing voice, and his intellect.
His remarkable smarts impressed our neighbors so much so that they would gift Kweku eggs from their farm anytime he had one of his exceptional reports in elementary school. And Kweku loved his eggs.
Yet, for all his intelligence, he had such a playful and mischievous spirit. We remember how he used to spy on Paakow on his dates and report back with juicy details.
That Kweku made us laugh is an understatement. He was young but wise enough to know that as tough as life is, it is made bearable by seeing the light side of it. And so he lifted everyone’s spirits by tapping into his sense of humor.
That was who he was: a perfect blend of wisdom and wit. Even as a boy, he carried himself with the maturity of an elder, yet embodied joy and laughter like a child.
If you ever met him, you would never forget him. A truly unforgettable soul.
After graduating from the University of Ghana, a powerful facet of his multi-sided nature became even more evident - his loving and caring heart led him into a career where he cared for others - first the old and then psychiatric patients. It was like he had found his calling: being there for the needy and defenseless.
In the process, he’ll strike out to carve a life for himself in England. He didn't do it alone. He found his Abi for that journey. But though he may have given up on his dream as a footballer, or not sing as much, that humor stayed. That ability to get along with everyone survived. His popularity endured. His caring heart welcomed all.
Like life is wont to do, it tosses challenges in our paths, and Kweku was not spared. His biggest challenge was his health. Chronic ailments he did not choose or encourage made his every movement and activity painful.
And that humor could not always obscure the fact that he had to endure physical pain. Pain that sometimes dimmed the glint in his eyes.
And yet every day, he woke up and marched on, resilient, determined, courageous.
Resilient in that the pain never held him back from pursuing his dreams.
Determined to be a good husband, father, son, and brother.
Courageous in that though he knew his tomorrow was not a given, he lived anyway. He laughed anyway. He loved anyway.
That Death has ripped a hole in the fabric of our everyday does not come close to describing the pain we are dealing with at his sudden loss. We miss our Kweku Gyan so much.
And yet through the sorrow, we cannot help but admire the brother we had. His short life has taught us so many lessons that we will forever hold on to.
Dear Kweku, the author Terry Pratchett once asked, “Do you not know that a man is not dead while his name is still spoken?” And so we speak your name and will continue to, because you will forever live in our hearts.
Thank you for blessing our lives with your presence. Thank you for always making us laugh and teaching us that life must be lived, regardless of the challenges one faces.
Rest well till we meet again.
Your heartbroken siblings,
Nana’dzie, Paakow, Abi and Kojo
Gallery
Memory wall
I have no words and am still in shock. May the Lord keep you safe, rest well and console your loved ones here.
Some people become part of an organisation, and some become part of its story. Sam, you became part of ours.
We will remember the familiar face at our gatherings, the conversations, the laughter, and above all, the quiet consistency with which you supported this Association and the people within it. You never needed an audience to show kindness, and you never needed to be asked twice to show support. That was simply who you were.
There are people whose absence is immediately felt because of the space they occupied in the lives of others. Yours will be one of those.
We are grateful that our paths crossed and that, for the time God gave us, we had the privilege of calling you one of our own.
To Abby, the children and the entire family, Nyame nhyɛ mo den. You remain surrounded by our love and prayers.
Da yie, onua pa.
Nyame mfa wo nsie. 🕊️
Forever remembered by your WMAGHW family. ❤️
May God give peace, comfort, and strength to Aunty Abigail, and your lovely children during this difficult time. May they find solace in the rich love you shared with them and the beautiful memories that will live on in their hearts forever🙏🏾
Rest well, Mr Samuel Ghansah 🫡
RIEP sam you will be greatly missed
SAMUEL KWAKU GYAN GHANSAH 🕊️
It is difficult to find the right words to say goodbye to someone so dear to our hearts.
Though you are gone, your love and beautiful memories will forever remain in our hearts.
Your absence is deeply felt, but we find comfort in God's promises and the hope of eternal life through Christ Jesus.
Rest peacefully, dear Samuel. You are forever loved, deeply missed, and will never be forgotten.
Until we meet again.
Nante yie, Samuel! ❤️🕊️
You will be remembered. You will be missed. You will never be forgotten.
You were, and even in your eternal rest remain, one of the finest brothers Mfantsipim bestowed upon me.
Kweku, rest in the Lord. 💔
I first met Kweku in 1993 while on holiday in Ghana. From that day, I became Sister Araba to him, and we formed a bond that would last a lifetime. No matter where life took him, Kweku always made sure to stay in touch with me. It speaks volumes about the kind of person he was that we remained close and continued to keep in contact throughout all these years.
No matter how much time had passed, whether weeks or months, Kweku would always call or message to update me on what was happening in his life. He would often say, "Sister Araba, you are the closest family I have in the UK. How can I ever forget what you have done for me?" Those words will stay with me forever.
The love, respect, and gratitude Kweku showed were reflections of his beautiful heart. He valued family, cherished relationships, and never forgot those who cared for him. That is one of the many reasons why his loss is so painful. He was not just family; he was a special soul whose warmth, kindness, and presence touched everyone who had the privilege of knowing him.
Though you are no longer with us, Kweku, my brother and nephew, the memories we shared and the love we have for you will remain in our hearts forever. Thank you for the joy, laughter, and love you brought into our lives.
Rest peacefully, Kweku. You may be gone from our sight, but you will never be gone from our hearts. Your memory will live on in the lives you touched, and, in the love, you shared so freely
I saw you growing up in our serene community 8 into a fine ever smiling young man. You left us too soon bro. Rest well😭😭😭
Your passing has left a deep void in the hearts of everyone who knew and worked with you. Your presence, kindness and memories will remain with us, even though you are no longer here in person.
We mourn your untimely departure and pray that your soul may rest peacefully. May God grant your family the strength and comfort to bear this painful loss.
Rest peacefully, Sam. You will never be forgotten.
Saiko( class mate Mfantsipim School)
A friend gone too soon. May your Soul Rest In Peace.
To my friend Kojo and your entire family, my deepest condolences and may God give you strength in this difficult times.
Some friendships begin in a classroom. Some begin in a workplace. But some of the most special friendships begin when you simply find yourself sharing a room with someone you barely know—and somehow, that person becomes family.
That was my story with "Kweku"
From the very first day we became roommates in Commonwealth Hall, Room A11, something clicked between us. We didn't remain just roommates for long.
We became brothers.
We affectionately called each other "Formful Two,” and whenever we met, the two-finger salute was our special sign. It was more than a greeting. It was our little language—a reminder of the bond we shared.
Kweku was a special kind of friend. We ate together, shared stories, laughed together, and created memories that I will carry with me for the rest of my life.
But there was something else about Kweku that I will never forget.
He had a unique ability to make people comfortable around me.
As a person living with a disability, I have sometimes experienced those awkward moments when people don't quite know what to say or how to interact with me. But Kweku had a way of breaking down those barriers without making me feel different or uncomfortable.
He could crack jokes about my disability—and I would laugh with him.
His humour broke the ice for other VMATES and friends. He showed them, simply by the way he related to me, that my disability was not something they needed to be afraid of, pity me for, or feel awkward about.
Because Kweku was comfortable with me, others became comfortable too.
And that was one of the greatest gifts a friend could give me.
He didn't see my disability first.
He saw Kweku's brother. He saw Zowee.
Two weeks before Kweku passed, I called him.
He couldn't answer the call, but he sent me a message saying that he would call me back. I replied that-I was only calling to check on him
Little did I know that those words would become my last message to my brother.
I never got that call back.
Instead, I received the heartbreaking news that Kweku had passed away.
There is something particularly painful about losing someone when you were expecting to hear their voice again. You think there will always be another call, another conversation, another laugh, another “Formful Two” moment.
But life had other plans.
Kweku, my brother, my roommate, my friend, my Formful Two!...
Thank you for the laughter.
Thank you for the brotherhood.
Thank you for helping others see beyond my disability through something as simple and powerful as friendship and humour.
I will always remember the meals, the jokes, the laughter, the university days, and especially our- two-finger salute
Whenever I raise those two fingers, I will think of you.
Our friendship began as roommates, but it became something much greater.
Rest peacefully, my brother.
Until we meet again, Formful Two.✌🏾
Though you are no longer with us, the memories we created and the impact you created will never fade. You will always be remembered with love, warmth, and gratitude.
Rest peacefully, my dear friend. You will truly be missed.
Family tree
Ghansah
Ghansah
Service
We will come together to remember him for the wonderful person he was. While we mourn the loss of our dear, we also aim to cherish the moments shared and the joy brought into our lives. Your presence would mean a great deal to us during this time of remembrance and reflection.
Vivian Road, Harborne, Birmingham, B67 6BG
Français
Deutsch
Nederlands
Español
Português
Magyar
Русский
繁體中文