The day before he told me it was over, we spent the whole night at the back of my parents’ house talking about my placement and how our love is going to be affected, and the things we had to do to ensure we stay afloat. I told him, “This is our sixth year together. We’ve seen rainy days and have seen the water run dry. This shouldn’t be the mountain we choose to die on. You’ll come and visit me. I’ll visit you on my off days. True love doesn’t know how long the distance is.”

We started talking around 9 pm. By the time we said goodbye to each other, the cock had crowed twice. It was around 2 am. He told me, “Get yourself some sleep. A few hours from now, you’ll be traveling to your new station.” We hugged. I told him I loved him and he told me he would see me in the morning before I leave. He got home and sent me the message that broke me into pieces.

“We’ve come a long way as lovers but I believe there’s a longer way each of us can travel if we let each other go. I’ve thought about this deeply and I don’t think this relationship still serves the purpose. I’ll leave so you find purpose in the next man you meet.”

After reading the message, I felt like I didn’t understand what purpose meant. “Or the meaning of purpose has changed?” I Googled it.

“What’s purpose?”

“The reason for which something is done or created or for which something exists.”

He means there’s no reason for the existence of our love? How? Was it not just a moment ago that we were both discussing the future? What changed on his way home?

I called his phone a thousand times and he didn’t pick up. The next message that came was, “We don’t have to talk about this. Talking will change nothing. The next step you take after this will rather change everything. Let it go. It’s not a cage.”

“Pick my calls, Junior, just pick up and hear me out.”

I texted back, desperate to have a word with him, determined to get him to change his mind. He didn’t pick up any of my calls so early morning, I went to his house. I knocked thrice but there was no response. After the last knock, I said, “Juuju please open the door and let’s talk.” His next-door neighbor might have heard me so he pulled his window curtain to look at me and said, “I don’t think Junior is there. He left a moment ago. He said he was traveling.”

I broke down in front of his door. I sat on the little staircase in front of his door, waiting, thinking the man lied to me. I waited for over four hours, but Junior didn’t come. His phone was off. His love for me was off too.

Six years meant nothing, the memories felt like a hit in my jaw. It didn’t happen quickly but slowly I learned to accept that it was indeed over.

According to the stories I read, men help women to become something, hoping one day, they could marry. The woman will find someone else and leave the man fast and dry. The comments usually are, “How could she be this ungrateful?” “Don’t worry, Karma will knock on her door one day.”

Ours was different. When I met Junior, all I had was a dream to become a nurse. I didn’t even have the money to pursue my own dreams so it was Junior who funded my dreams from hair to toe. He paid for me to write remedials twice. He bought the nursing form for me and paid my fees until I completed school. He gave me pocket money and bought gifts for me on occasions. While I was waiting for my postings, he took care of me. My mom called him “Daddy” because he became the father I didn’t have.

I became a nurse because of him and I was ready to become his wife but he pulled the plug.

I waited for three days, hoping he would reach out, believing he would come home so I see him before I leave for my station. He never came so I packed my things and left town. The following day, I reported to work with a broken heart.

I was trying hard to hide it but when you’re broken, you become liquid. You unconsciously leak through every hole you find yourself in. I leaked and people around me saw it. They started asking what was wrong with me. I told them I was fine but being fine is not something you can easily fake so they didn’t believe me. I was monitored so I don’t give the wrong drugs to patients or pull the oxygen mask off the face of a dying patient.

I was in a teaching hospital that saw a lot of different cases every day. There were cancer patients who knew how many days were left in their lives yet hoped for healing, HIV patients, people with broken bones, and others with sores that don’t want to heal. All these people hoped for healing but I was walking around with a broken heart and was not willing to hope for healing. My world had come to an end and I had accepted not to rebuild.

One early morning they brought a patient in, a man in his late fifties with a broken leg. He was in pain so he behaved erratically. We had to prepare him for the arrival of the doctor but this man picked a fight with every nurse that got close to him. He found a reason to call them disrespectful and push them away. I saw him fighting with a colleague and decided to help. I got there and he told me what my other colleague was doing wrong. I told him, “Let me do it then. I’ll be patient with you because you’re my patient now.”

His main issue was nurses looking at his nakedness. He wished there was something he could do to cover his nakedness while we worked on him. I gave him a sheet. I turned away so he cover up. He said, “You can turn now.” I turned and he saw my face and he smiled. “Thank you,” He said. I responded with only a smile. He was brought in from another hospital and from what he told me, he had fought with every nurse except me.

I might have understood him because both of us had one thing in common. We had something that was broken. He had a broken leg and I had a broken heart. We became friends so each time I was on duty I spent some time with him, talking about his condition and healing. I got to know he was a reverend minister nearing his retirement. He told me about his family and how life was before the accident.

One evening when the ward was quiet and smelling of sleep, he called me to his side. He said he couldn’t sleep. I asked if he was in pain and he said no. I asked again, “Is there any way I can help?” He answered, “I miss talking to the congregation. I’ve been away for two months. It feels like I’m failing them.” I sat next to him and he used me as his congregation that night. He preached about the love of God and how it heals. He said, “If we give it to God, he’ll heal us. That’s why I’m not in a hurry. He’ll do it if only we allow him.”

He was missing his congregation. I was missing Junior. It had been three months since he left me. He was avoiding my calls so at some point I stopped calling but that night I called again and he picked up. I said hello and the voice that said hello back was a lady. I asked if I could talk to Junior and she answered, “He’s sleeping. When he wakes up, I’ll tell him you called.” I didn’t say another word. I hung up and told myself, “This is where I stop chasing. He has moved on so I will too.”

In the morning Junior called back. He apologized for the way he treated me. He told me he could have done better. He said a lot of things while trying so hard to inhale all the guilt floating in the air while we spoke. I asked him, “Who picked up my call last night?” He answered, “We don’t have to talk about that.” Our conversation lasted for eight minutes but silence took most of the time.

Sickness comes in a day but it takes time for healing to come, that’s what I’ve learned in life. Healing is a slow process but one day we’ll look back and all we’ll see are scars of the wounds that took forever to heal. I didn’t heal that day but slowly I did. Even Reverend eventually got his healing and was discharged. Old bones are very stubborn. Once broken it takes forever to put them back together but the reverend was patient until one day he walked out of the hospital with crutches stuck under his armpit.

Years passed. I’d forgotten about Junior and all the troubles. My heart was in good shape because it hadn’t loved another after it snapped. When you go through such pain, it changes you. You either become better or bitter. I chose to become an old wine. A vintage. An old dog you can’t teach a new trick.

An old friend of mine found love and was having a wedding so I traveled to give him my support. I got to the church and the minister officiating the wedding sounded familiar. I looked at him very well, creating mental pictures of him without his robes on. “Ah, that’s Reverend. He’s still not retired?”

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After the ceremony, I went to see him and he gave me the warmest hug I’d ever received from an old man. He was happy to see me and I was happy to see him without crutches. He walked with a limp but that was way better than walking with crutches under his armpit. I told him the groom was a friend and he was shocked at how the world could appear so small. He officiated the marriage because the bride was his niece.

I joined his car to the reception and he introduced the gentleman driving the car to me as his second son. Two years later, he officiated one last wedding and that wedding was between me and his second son.

After we got introduced in the car, we sat together at the reception and that was where it all started. His father didn’t have a hand in it. He introduced me to his father a year later as the woman he wanted to settle down with. Reverend was surprised, “Are you two joking?” I answered, “No, we are not. We never went our separate ways after you introduced us.”

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It’s a small world. Healing may come slowly but love comes at you very fast and when it’s true, it thrives with time. We didn’t have to spend six years, getting our hearts broken to get them fixed before marriage. We dated distantly for two years. Had it not been for the distance, we would have married earlier but it was all good because it lasted the mile.

A man walked in one day with a broken leg. I helped while my heart was broken. He got healed and through him, I met the man who brought total healing to my heart. We’ve given Reverend two grandkids already. He prays for us often and wishes us prosperity in love forever. To us, that’s the most important thing.

–A.E.B

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