Before my mother’s death, she told me her biggest fear was death. She feared that among her children her death would make me suffer the most. I thought she was just speaking as a mother who was concerned about the wellbeing of her child. You know how parents pray for long life so they can see their children grow up and become independent before God calls them home? I believed it was one of those cases with my mother until reality started unfolding.

All my siblings were away from home at the time she took ill. My older brother was doing his national service outside Accra while my younger sister was a high school student in a boarding school. It was just me and dad who were at my mum’s side taking care of her. We did everything possible to keep her alive but she gave up the ghost in the end.

Shortly after her demise, I heard from the gossip mill that I was the one who caused my mother so much stress that she died. It was my brother who started the rumors. The pain of losing my mother was nothing compared to the hurt of the accusations leveled against me.

I wasn’t the only one who suffered after my mum passed. The impact it had on my father was so strong that no sooner had my mum been buried than he also took ill. These were trying times for me as I had to combine work as a pupil teacher with the many arrows that people were throwing at me.

In July of that same year, my dad’s illness got worse so he was hospitalized. I was then secretly attending a Bible School. It was a secret because the people I call family are strongly against my ministry. They saw me doing pastoral work as a waste of time. This is why I couldn’t tell anyone what I was up to. If I did, maybe they would understand why I couldn’t visit my father at the hospital. This would have prevented them from spreading all sorts of lies about me.

School was about to go on mid-term break so I planned to go see him during that time. However, the lies kept increasing. I even heard someone say that I refused to visit my father because I said he had offended me. I have a crazy sense of humor but I wouldn’t even joke about something like that. What I didn’t understand was why my brother thought it was okay to say these untrue things about me.

I was so devastated and broken that I decided to resign and go be with my dad at the hospital. Sadly, he died the next day while I was with him at the hospital. His passing didn’t silence the voices that were gossiping about me. Rather, it added more fuel to the fire they were using to cook these lies. People in our neighborhood who shouldn’t know our family’s business spoke to me as if I was dirt under their shoes.

Had it not been for my friends who stayed by my side and prayed with me, I would have lost my mind and probably ended my life. One man I appreciate so much in all this is Mr. Jephthah. He and his wife were the only elderly people who believed me and stood by me. While others treated me like an outcast, they invited me to their home repeatedly and fed me each time I honored their invitation.

I was a Presbyterian at the time but my church members forsook me because of the stories they heard. These stories kept going around until they got to the ears of one Rev. Minister. After she heard their side, she called me for a meeting and listened to my side as well. Rev. Mrs. Patience is such a mother figure. She tried to help me but the people around her didn’t allow it. They kept pointing accusing fingers at me until I decided to leave the church.

As much as it pained me to leave the church my father raised me in, I needed a fresh start. Mama Patience understood my reasons for leaving so she didn’t hold it against me. When I told her I found a charismatic church I would like to join she said a simple prayer for me: “May the people in the new church love and accept you.” I joined the church and the pastor at the branch I worshipped with loved me unconditionally. I was able to revive my ministry because of him.

As if I hadn’t suffered enough, we were given an amount of Gh¢22,000 when we lost my dad. My brother took the money and never gave me a pesewa. I complained about his behavior only to be met with names like selfish, black sheep, and other horrible things.

Later, my brother sold my father’s Nissan Pickup and spent all the money by himself. I tried to complain again but they silenced me with the sentence, “Barnie, why are you always controversial?” See, it didn’t take long before I started believing the things they were saying about me. “Maybe I am indeed the black sheep of the family,” I thought. I started trying so hard to fix whatever it was I might have done wrong.

When my father’s benefits were released, my share was Gh¢27,000. My brother took advantage of my efforts to make peace and convinced me to give him the money. He said he was working with a travel agent who would help me travel abroad. Judging his history with money, I didn’t believe him at all. However, my brother is sweet-tongued. He can even talk a baby into sharing breast milk with him. That’s how persuasive he can be. So after several back and forth, I gave him the money.

A year after I gave him the money, I was still in Ghana. He kept giving me excuses whenever I asked him about the travel plans. Later I found out he bought a car with my money and was using it to work. What would have happened if he had at least shared the proceeds he was making from the car with me? When he realized I knew he had scammed me, he sold the car and gave me Gh¢15,000. Before I could say, Jack Robinson, my brother left the country without paying back the rest of my money.

READ ALSO: I Hacked My Fiancée’s WhatsApp And Found What I Wasn’t Looking For?

I realized then that he didn’t plan what he did to me alone. Some members of the family were in on it right from the beginning. I know their behavior shouldn’t have surprised me but it still hurt. Here I was, making amends and trying to keep the peace but it didn’t mean anything to them. I was so broken that I became suicidal again. Once again, my friends stood by me and gave me unconditional support and love.

It’s been six years since my parents passed. My mum went in February and my father followed her in August. 2017 was particularly the most difficult year in my life. Just like my mum, my dad also told me, “I am afraid I am going to die while you are not in a good place. You will suffer most when I am gone.” I keep asking myself why both my parents were after to die and leave me to suffer, only for their fears to come to pass.

Everything You Need To Know About Happy Ending Massage

Is it possible that all along they knew my brother didn’t like me? Did they see a vision that revealed the future to them? How is it that during the most trying time of my life, it was my friends who came to my rescue and not my family? Honestly, I never dreamt a fraction of my pain would be caused by my own people. I know I am not as bad as they make me to be because if I were, other people wouldn’t be so loving and accepting of me.

Despite all their devices, I am still here. God kept bringing people my way to encourage me and urge me on. That’s one thing I have learned through all this: you can survive whatever life throws at you if you have the right support system. The storms will come but the people who love you will steady you until you can stand on your feet. And I am so grateful to all my friends and the people God used to preserve me.

—Barnabas

This story you just read was sent to us by someone just like you. We know you have a story too. Email it to us at [email protected]. You can also drop your number and we will call you so you tell us your story.

#SB