I lost my boyfriend on Christmas in 2018. He went out with friends at night. He doesn’t drink, but surprisingly he found himself among friends who drank and smoked. On Christmas Day in 2018, he went out with these same friends, they got drunk, and drove their car into a parked tipper truck. He was the only one who lost his life. He never tasted alcohol all his life, but he lost his life because of alcohol. We had dated for three years and were talking about getting married in 2017.

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From that day, my heart always felt heavy when Christmas was coming. I would cry for no reason. Friends would wish me merry Christmas, and I would respond with a merry face but a crying heart.

And then on the 24th of December, 2020, another disaster struck. It was at the height of COVID, and the world was already a sad place. I was on the phone with my mom on the morning of the 23rd of December when she told me her chest felt heavy and she was finding it hard to breathe sometimes. She had been complaining of headaches and catarrh all week, but that day she talked about her chest. I asked her to go to the hospital. She told me she was waiting for another day to see if things would be better. The other day was the 24th of December, 2020, when I got a call that my mom had died.

She might have died of COVID but wasn’t counted as part of the statistics because hers happened at home even before she was diagnosed. I cried behind my nose mask for days. “Why do bad things only happen to me in December when we should all be merry?” I asked myself. My boyfriend died on the 25th of December. My mom died on the 24th. Every day of Christmas had been replaced with sadness for me.

During the burial of my mother in January 2021, which almost did not happen because of national restrictions on gatherings, I met a gentleman at the cemetery. He was part of another family who were also burying their dead a few meters away from us. I didn’t get close to my mom’s grave because my heart was hurting and pounding. I was leaning against a tree a few feet away when this gentleman approached. He was wearing a nose mask and dark spectacles, so ninety percent of his face was covered.

He asked, “Who is dead?” I blew my nose before saying, “My mom.” He said, “Get close to the grave. Pray. Say goodbye. Watch her go underneath. It’s a memory you don’t have to lose.” I burst out crying, and he held my hand and took me to the graveside and stood by me. My brother was standing next to us and wondering if I’d found a new brother.

He was with me until we were done and were leaving the cemetery. I said thank you to him, and he took my number. I didn’t even ask who he was or his name. Weeks after the burial, he came to mind. I was like, “Eiii, that guy who took my number, what happened to him?”

That day, he was all over my thoughts. I said to myself, “I wouldn’t even recognize him if he stood here today. I didn’t see his face.” And then another thought flashed, “Or it’s the ghost of my boyfriend who came to comfort me? If not, why hasn’t he called?”

Almost two months after the burial, a foreign number called. The voice didn’t sound familiar. He said he was Francis. I asked, “Francis from where?” He responded, “Francis from the cemetery.” Then it clicked. “Oh yeah, you. What happened to you? You came to mind not long ago. I thought you were a ghost.”

So we talked every day from that day. I learned a lot about him. He was at the cemetery that day to bury a friend’s mother. He told me he had come to Ghana in March 2020 to bury his father. Before he could go back, the world went on lockdown, so he got stuck in Ghana attending more funerals than weddings. After he met me, a little way opened for him to travel back, so he dedicated all his attention to that until he was able to fly back.

He made it obvious he liked me. He made it obvious he wanted a relationship with me, but I was in a place where I didn’t trust myself to be in a long-distance relationship. So whenever he tried to talk about love, I deflected until he cornered me and said, “I need an honest answer today. Look into my eyes on the screen and give me your answer. Are we in a relationship?”

I said yes, and we took it from there. He was supposed to come to Ghana in December 2023, but he didn’t come. I told him, “December is a month of sorrow for me. You’ve added to it. If you had come, I might have had a reason to smile, but look at you. You decided to take the smiles away.”

So during Christmas, we both dressed up and had a digital date. We had a glass of wine and pretended we were together. When I went to church, I put my camera on while he was also in church. We pretended we were worshipping together. It wasn’t the same, but it was something to relish. I loved him more, and the more we did that, the more I needed him close.

In November 2024, I had a call from my mother’s elder brother. He said a man was with him and asking to marry me. “Why didn’t you tell me such a man was coming?” he asked me. I was confused. He said, “He came with Joe.” “Joe? My elder brother? Has he found a man for me?” So I asked him to give him the phone. “Joe, what kind of sick joke is that?” He answered, “The man is here. He said he had been dreaming of marrying you since day one. He came prepared.”

He asked me to talk to the man, and I screamed, “I’m not talking to anyone. Why would you do such a thing without telling me? Don’t you know I have a man I’m seeing? Why should I marry a man I haven’t even seen?” He answered, “Just say a word to him. You’ll know he’s someone you know and love.” He handed the phone over to the man. He said, “Hello Obaa.”

My heart jumped out of my chest. I knew the only person on earth who called me Obaa. I spoke softly, “Francis?” He answered, “I would have left you today if you didn’t know it was me.”

I screamed my lungs out, “How could you do this to me? Are you alright? When did you come? Why are you there and not here?”

A whole lot of silly questions. He had planned our marriage without telling me about it. He got a dowry list from my uncle that day. He said, “Get ready. We are getting married in December.”

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So on December 21st, 2024, we got married. I said, “Thank you for giving me something good to remember in December.” He responded, “That’s the plan. To make new memories in December.”

We are expecting our first child. I got here in May. In June, I found out I was pregnant. He asked me, “Will the baby arrive in December?” I answered, “Too bad babies are not made in six months. We didn’t plan well.”

—Bridget

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