It was a bright sunny day but also a gloomy day. A week had passed and no amount of sunshine could thaw the frozen weight that had settled in my heart since then. I couldn’t bring myself to dress up for the event. How was I going to stand there and watch my friend being lowered to mother earth? If it was my aged grandfather, I would be glad to celebrate his life even in death, but what life could be worth celebrating in the death of a vibrant young woman? We were barely getting to our mid-thirties and we had so much to do together. Why would death’s cruel hand hold my friend’s life in a stone-cold grip? Why? Why?? Why???
If she had died in an accident or after a brief illness, perhaps, like Job, I would have said, “The Lord giveth and He taketh, blessed be the name of the Lord,” but no, she had to die by the very hand of the man who promised to love and cherish her for the rest of his life. No, this was not “The Lord taketh,” this was “Man taketh,” and in my vexed soul, I wished I could damn him to the deepest part of hell.
“Sweetheart,” my husband’s soft whisper reached a part of my frozen heart, “won’t you get dressed?”
I turned eyes filled with unshed tears to him. He walked towards me in long swift strides and wrapped me in a warm embrace. My husband perfectly understood my grief. He knew how close Tito and I were. I didn’t wail, but I soaked his shirt with torrents of tears as he gently rocked me back and forth.
“You know it’s okay if you can’t go?” He murmured into my ears, “I’ll go and represent us. Everyone will understand.”
I pulled a little from his arms so I could look at him. I gave him a bittersweet smile just to help ease the concern etched on the contours of his face.
“I will go,” my voice quaked a little, “I just need a moment. Can I have some more time to myself?”
“Certainly. Take your time dear. I’m here for you.”
I gave another bittersweet smile. “Thanks darling. I won’t take too long.”
“It’s okay baby. I’m here.” He pressed a kiss to my forehead, gathered me in another embrace, and strode out of the room.
I gazed at my husband’s retreating form till he was no more in sight. I inwardly sent a prayer of thanksgiving ‘upstairs’. Though I was grieving for my friend and hated her husband’s guts at the moment, I could not help but express gratitude to God for the favour of a good man as my husband. I was not gloating, I dared not, I was simply thankful to God.
My emotions were on a roller coaster as I managed to get dressed. My husband came to check on me to see if I needed anything and since I wasn’t feeling up to it, I asked him to help with the last bit of dress up. As we walked to the car, fresh sadness hit me at the thought of how unfortunate Tito was to have married the man who eventually took her vibrant life. I sent another prayer ‘upstairs’, “Dear Lord, I pray I don’t lay eyes on that ‘satyr’ cos I might very well wring his neck myself.”
To be cont’d….
© 2014 AyotundeElegbeleye
Jesus is LORD!