I was by her side the very night the accident happened. She couldn’t open her eyes to see me crying. I was scared, especially when they couldn’t get a doctor on the phone to come and attend to her. I believe in prayers but I also know the limitations of prayers, that prayers won’t save what we don’t work on but in that moment, that was the only thing left to do so I started praying, asking God to spare her life. I threw in some promises; “God, if you save the life of my girlfriend, I promise to give you my life and not sin again. I know we’ve gone against your word but this once, forgive us and see us turn a new leaf.”

As I was praying, her mother walked in, followed by her father. And then her brother. Later her best friend joined. Her bedside was full of love and prayers but she couldn’t open her eyes to see the love or feel the heaviness of our hearts. Minutes later, the nurse asked us to go out as the doctor was about to walk in.

It was a small hospital but I hoped and believed they could save the life of my fiancée. We were getting married in a few months. I wanted her to be there in the gown she tried on and said she loved.

The next morning, I went to see her at the hospital before I went to work. Her mother was there. She still hadn’t opened her eyes or said anything. I asked her mom, “Is she getting better? Did she say something during the night? How has she been?” She responded, “She moves her body once in a while, like she’s awake but she didn’t open her eyes all night. The doctor says it will take some time.”

I stood at the headboard of her bed and prayed for her. Her mother added her voice to the prayers. We said Amen together and I left.

I left the hospital at 7:30 a.m. At 11 a.m., I called her mom to ask how things were going. She didn’t pick up my call. I called again minutes later. And then again and again. She didn’t pick up. She called back an hour later. With a sober voice, she croaked, “She couldn’t make it. She couldn’t even open her eyes once. She died in her sleep.”

A client was sitting in front of me. She was waiting for me to attend to her. I put my head on my table and burst into tears. It wasn’t silent. I tried to sob but it didn’t work so I wailed until my supervisor came to hold my hand and walked me out of the office to a place where I could be alone and wail till I die.

Before the accident, we had started buying the things on the dowry list. We bought almost all the things on the list including her ring. We met in school. I was a year ahead of her. We had nothing when we met. No, we had something. Our dreams. And love for each other. After national service when I couldn’t get a job, she was the one sending me money and encouragement. “You don’t have to worry too soon. You’ll have a job one day and this trouble will come to an end.”

She completed school, completed national service and had a job while I was still home waiting on God and a miracle to get a job. Again, she sent money, she sent opportunities my way and when all was lost, she sent love. I was scared to lose her to another man but eventually, I lost her to death. If I had a choice in this affair, I would have chosen to lose her to another man but Frema didn’t give me that choice.

She was the only one who died in the accident. The rest of the passengers got up, dusted themselves off and went straight home. Those who visited the hospital were discharged the same day but Frema spent three days in the hospital and later gave up the ghost. We were together for six years.

After her burial, it was very difficult to move on. I looked at the things we bought together and talked to her as if she were there; “Tell me Frema, what should I do with these things?”

I would pick the ring and imagine putting it on her finger. My imagination would travel far to our wedding day. She was in that gown she tried on and said she loved. The veil was thin so I could see her smiling behind the veil. When the pastor asked me to put the ring on her finger, I snapped out of the fantasy and came back to reality. I was alone without a church or a wedding or a wedding jollof.

I gave myself one year to mourn her, after which I would step out of the coat of sadness and fall for another woman. Two months after her burial, I thought I needed a distraction. Something to keep me going before I self-distract. I dipped myself deeply into church activities. God didn’t save her but it wasn’t bad for me to get closer to him. He is the ultimate healer so I went to him with my broken heart.

One day we had a joint service with another branch of our church. A lady came to sing Don Moen’s “Here We Are” and I remember falling in love with the song. I listened to the lyrics and it meant something to me. I allowed myself to repeat the chorus even after the lady had left the podium.

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That night I had a dream. For the very first time, I saw Frema. We were in a church sitting next to each other. The lady who came to sing Don Moen’s song was on the podium singing the same song. I was up on my feet lifting my hands high and screaming the lyrics. When the lady stopped singing and I sat down, Frema looked at me and smiled. I asked, “What” and she shook her head. After church, she led me to the lady and said, “Speak to her. Tell her you love her voice.”

I woke up just when I was about to say something. I thought about the dream all night. “Does it mean anything?” I wrote the date down, 4th May 2017, Frema took me to church.”

Next Sunday When I went to church, I saw the lady again. She didn’t belong to our branch but she was there dancing toward the offertory bowl. I looked at her very well and I thought she was beautiful. I told myself, “It’s a sign. Go and talk to her. It’s the manifestation of the dream. Don’t let it go wasted.”

After church, I met her. When she smiled I fell in love and that made me feel guilty. “How can I think of falling in love just a few months after the death of a woman I spent six years with?” She told me her name, Freda. I told her I loved her voice. I told her the song she sang had become my favourite song because of her. She said thank you. When I asked for her number, she took my phone and typed it on it. She asked me, “Do you have another Freda on your phone?” I shook my head. She typed her name and pressed “Save”

One week later, I was telling her about Frema and how I lost her. One month later, she was my girlfriend. The day I proposed and she said yes, I apologized to Frema in my head. That I couldn’t wait for a year to fall in love again but I also blamed her; “If you didn’t ask me to talk to her in a dream, we wouldn’t have been here. If it’s truly your wish, then you should be happy that I listened.”

It wasn’t easy to let go of the memory of Frema. Everything I did, I asked myself if her soul would be happy. The day I kissed Freda for the first time, I was scared Frema’s ghost would visit at night and slap me or some calamity would befall on me. It was hard but I talked to Freda about it. She was forgiving and encouraged me to seek counselling. I spoke to our pastor about it and he said, “The living don’t owe the death anything apart from respect and memories. You’ll have to move on and it’s better earlier than never.”

It was harsh to think of it that way but the truth in it wasn’t lost to me. I dated Freda for a year. It wasn’t all smooth but she was forgiving and considerate. One day we were thinking of what to do with the things I and Frema bought for our wedding. Freda said, “We can use them when it’s time for us to get married. We can’t throw them away?”

I didn’t know she saw a husband material in me after everything we’ve been through. Half of our relationship had been fraught with petty fights about Frema. She accused me of not letting go. She accused me of loving the dead than the living. I said it wasn’t my fault. At a point, I felt she was going to leave me but that day when she made that statement about the things we bought, I said, “Then let’s get married soon before these things get old.”

We sold the ring so she could buy her own, the one she herself had chosen. On one nice bright Saturday morning, the two of us walked down the aisle to exchange vows. The date was 4th May 2019. It wasn’t planned. It was just a coincidence.

—Isaac

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