She was going to give birth to our first child when she died. We had a boy. He also didn’t survive. He died a week later. It was the longest day in my life, a story I haven’t told in full to anyone except those who already knew. Our Marriage was only two years. It broke me. It got me shattered. I stopped working because I was always making mistakes at work. My boss said, “Take a break. You can take all you leave and come back refreshed.” I took my leave. I came back but nothing was working. They gave me the option to take a six-month leave without pay. I resigned. 

Life was terrible after my wife died. Everything around me reminded me of her so I started selling them one after the other. I started from the room sofa. Every evening when I went home, I could imagine her sitting on the sofa, smiling and welcoming me back home. I would smile back. I would say hello and get no response. I would sit closer to her favourite chair. I would look at one spot until the night ends. When I was in the house, I could imagine her roaming around. She would take the remote, turn on the TV and sit on her favourite sofa. I could see her opening the fridge, going in and out of the kitchen. When I enter the kitchen, I would see her standing next to the gas cooker, looking back at me while cutting onions.

It was getting too much for me so I put some of the things online for sale. Slowly, I sold everything one after the other. I couldn’t sell the sofa because no one was ready to match the price. I was selling something my wife loved so I couldn’t sell it any cheaper. One day, I called my co-tenant into my room. I asked her, “Do you like this sofa? She looked around the room and realized everything was gone. She asked me, “Are you moving from here?” I answered, “Yeah I’m moving from here. I’ve gotten a new place and I will have no use for these sofas.” The next day she came for them.

All I had left were my personal belongings; clothes, shoes, books, marriage certificate and some photos of us hanging on the wall. The room was so empty I started having echoes whenever I spoke. I imagined the echo was the voice of my wife. When I said hello, I heard hello back and that brought some warmth into my life. I lived in an empty room for months. Sometimes I wouldn’t go out for a week. My curtains were closed, my doors shut and my life was breaking down from the inside. The only thing that kept me company was the rising sun that seeped through the window every morning and left me with darkness when it finally tracked back to set in the west. 

Everyone around me was worried. They said, ”We didn’t know you loved your wife that much.” I told them, “I also didn’t know until she left.” Maybe that was the reason why it hurt me the way it did. Finally, I went home to my parents. My mom was on me and my dad was always finding me something to do. They said I needed to be a man and pick up my life again. I listened to them. They made me become friends with their pastor. I was always in church with him. He prayed for me, he counselled me, and I got better with time. 

I got a new job, rented a small room closer to my new office and was ready to start life again. It’s been two years since my wife died. I haven’t buried her memories but I’m ready to make new ones—new memories with people who are alive, Just like me.

Now, this is where the second part of my problem starts. 

I met Konadu and fell in love with her. It started slowly until there was nothing to do but give my love away to her. I proposed and she accepted. She already knew my story and provided a safe environment for me to grow next to her. I wasn’t scared to tell her everything about me. There were no secrets and it’s the reason why I found it comfortable to be with. Her way of loving is different. She’s intense and ready to go all out in the name of love. One day she was in my room and passion rose to the ceiling. We started taking off our clothes. Just when we were about to dig in, I saw my wife in the corner. When I say I saw her, I’m not saying it figuratively. Her face was in the corner. Her presence was palpable. She was sitting there smiling at me. Right there, my joystick went flaccid.

Konadu asked what the problem was. I said, “Nothing. My mind wandered. Maybe it’s too soon for us to do that.” I was talking to her but looking at the corner of the room. She turned and looked there too. “Why are you looking there while talking to me? Is someone there looking at us?” I said, “No, it’s only the curtains I see but hey, don’t you think it’s true what I’m saying? That it’s too soon to do this?” She asked me, “How long did it take you before you did it with your wife?” I lied, “We never did it until we got married.” All this while, I could see her face smiling. Once we went into our clothes, she disappeared.

It happened often until I couldn’t stand it. The first person I spoke to was my father’s pastor. He laughed at me. He said, “Joe, it’s been two years. You should be healed by now.” I retorted, “Pastor, I’ve moved on long ago. I never thought about her until I saw her face.” He said, “It’s all in your head. You need to vacate your head to be able to let her go completely.” I felt he didn’t understand me but he said, “No problem, I will pray for you and you’ll pray for yourself too. If you love the woman you’re with right now, tell her too so she can add her voice to the prayers.”

Konadu came to spend the night with me. We were about to do it when my wife’s face appeared again. I turned away from what I was seeing. I said in my head, “No, it’s in my head. It’s all in my head.” Again, I went soft. Konadu was worried. “Or you don’t like me the way you want me to believe?” I answered, “It’s because I’ve vowed not to do it until we marry.” At some point, it wasn’t only the face of my dead wife that I could see but I could smell her around me. I rushed home and told my parents about it. My dad laughed at me and also repeated the same thing the pastor said, “It’s in your head.” It was only my mom who took things seriously. When I went home she called me. She said, “Don’t worry. I’m praying for you but I will go and see your ex-wife’s people and see if there’s something we have to do.”

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A week later, my mom told me my wife’s people also didn’t believe it. They told her it might be the devil using my wife’s face to haunt me so I should pray and forget about any tradition or superstition. We are still praying but what’s following me hasn’t stopped. She only comes when I’m about to get intimate. I look at Konadu now and I see a woman who’s losing faith in me. She’s doubting me all the way. She tells me I don’t love her. She tells me I’m still in love with my dead wife. I’m not able to tell her what I’m going through because I’m scared it would confirm her perception of me being in love with my dead wife. 

A lot of you may not believe me because I’m the only one who sees what I see. I don’t want to go about telling everyone because I know they’ll judge my mental health and tell me things that will break my spirit more. My mom is going beneath the grass to find answers. She’s the only one who thinks I have a genuine problem. Should I tell Konadu about what I see? Would she stay? Would she leave? I don’t want to lose her. She’s been the help I needed in these stormy times. Someone said I should see a psychologist. I’ve booked an appointment but I don’t think it will help. What I see is real. It’s not a made-up story. It’s not in my head. It’s my reality. 

—Joe

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