In 2022, my husband of nine years walked away. He abandoned the place we called home and refused to tell me why. He simply did not want to return. For two years, I gave him space, hoping for that one day he will return hom. Then, in 2024, he blocked me on every platform. He cut off all communication, intimacy, and support. There was no shelter provided and no money for food. Nothing.

After three years of silence, he showed up at the house by unexpectedly I was there nursing my mother, who had fallen seriously ill. I had brought her to stay with me so I could cater to her needs properly. I was stunned to see him after three whole years, but he barely spoke to me. He saw her condition and he left. I told myself that surely this would soften his heart. I expected him to unblock me and at least ask how she was doing.

Instead, my mother’s condition declined. While she was admitted at the hospital, I was running the house, raising my children, going to work, and reminding myself to stop and breathe. Eventually I had to stop going to work altogether because I could not keep up with everything at once.

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Just as I believed that some sense of normal was returning to our lives, in September of that same year, my father fell sick too. I was now carrying the weight of two critically ill parents at the same time. The stress broke my own body, and I fell sick as well. My brother had to step in and become the one caring for all three of us. It was a horrible sight to see.

In October, I was rushed into emergency surgery. My pastor personally called my husband to tell him what had happened. Instead of calling to ask if I was okay, my husband happily told the pastor that God was punishing us. He did not say what sins we were being punished for.

Exactly two weeks after my surgery, my father passed away. As tradition demanded, a delegation informed my husband’s family, but not one of them came to offer condolences. During the one week observation, my husband showed up, but he acted like a stranger. He was not a son in law or a husband. He was nothing to us. He had to be forced to go and greet my mother. When he left, I was the one who called to check if he arrived safely. Despite everything, I felt he was still my husband.

I called hoping for answers to my many questions. He told me, “I am not under any pressure to call you or answer any of your questions.. I only came there because I was forced, and I wanted you to feel that.”

I was deeply hurt. This was a man I had clothed and fed. I had given him years of my life, yet he could not find a sliver of empathy for me. He gave 300 cedis as a donation, which I sent back to him. My family was furious with me and even forced me to apologize to him.

While we prepared for my father’s funeral, my mother passed away too. Both of them were gone at the same time. I broke down completely. I didn’t know how I would bury both parents or where I would find the money after millions had gone into their treatments. I was still healing from surgery and facing the biggest loss of my life. My only hope was in God.

My husband and his family skipped my mother’s one week observation. We traveled to Big Ada for my father’s burial, and they were absent there too, but his father showed up. A week before my mother’s funeral, a friend asked my husband why he hadn’t attended the burial. He answered boldly, without shame: “Yes, I didn’t come, and I won’t go to her mother’s funeral either.”

By the grace of God, my mother’s family and our loved ones rallied together. We gave both of my parents a befitting burial without him.

Exactly one week after my mother’s funeral, he unblocked me and called. He told me that Apostle Eric said I should call him. Because I respect the Apostle, I did. The Apostle is now encouraging me to forgive my husband.

What Nobody Tells You About Divorce

Meanwhile, this man he is campaigning for has not said a single word of apology to me or my family. He has not visited or acknowledged his wickedness. This Easter Sunday, while we celebrated the rising of Christ, he called to ask how my conversation with the Apostle ended. I told him it did not end anywhere.

Because truly, where is there to go?

This is a man who moved away and cut me off. A man who watched me care for two dying parents while recovering from surgery. A man who called my suffering God’s punishment. A man who stood at my father’s one-week observation like a stranger and left without properly greeting my bedridden mother. A man who said he would not attend my mother’s funeral. A man who is calling now because a pastor told him to, not because his heart moved him.

The heart of man is truly wicked, and I am genuinely asking myself whether I am supposed to return to a marriage like this. I honestly do not know.

—Jacintha

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