03/08/2025
Diary Of A Young Widow
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The moment they took my husband’s body out of that morgue vehicle, I screamed loudly, like a madwoman. They had placed my husband in the cheapest casket. That well-respected man, a doctor, was put in a tomato-red casket. When they were ready to take him to the house, I instructed them to put him back in the car. My husband’s younger sister went to the house to tell her mother, and when she arrived, she put me in charge. I was the woman of the house now.
She barked at me like she used to, but I wasn’t interested; I was there to collect my husband’s body. She looked me up and down, and I asked her if she had lost something that she thought I possessed. She insulted me for disrespecting her by coming to her house in ten-inch heels and expensive black clothes. I reminded her that the last time, she said I wasn’t fit to wear mourning clothes for her son. So I gave her what she wanted, but she still complained.
I instructed the army personnel to take my husband’s body, and then I slowly walked to my car, tears rolling down my cheeks. Seeing my husband in that casket reminded me that I would never see him again. As I walked slowly to my car, I heard his mother crying out, saying, “They are taking my son! Please help me!” I quickly wiped my tears, turned around, and walked straight to her.
“If I were you,” I said, “I would wipe those crocodile tears and be quiet. We both know that you hated Tonny but loved his money. You never showed him a mother’s love while I was a part of his life. You shut him out when he needed you the most—motherly love and advice. Do you remember the last time Tonny was here? You chased him away because he chose me over the woman you wanted him to date. So now, you want him to spend a night in the house he was never welcome in while he was alive? Over my dead body. That won’t happen while I’m still alive. So do me a favour: don’t come to my house or the cemetery.
You don’t deserve to bury my husband, and you don’t deserve to be called a mother. You are a mother because you have a womb, not because you have a caring heart like other mothers. You are one of those few mothers who are heartless and struggle to love their children.”
I moved to stand in front of my aunt. “And as for you, I’m glad I’m not your brother’s child. Imagine being related to you. I’d rather kill myself. I bet my grandparents didn’t give birth to you; surely, they found you abandoned and gave you a home, as you possess such a cold heart. Thank you for giving me a tough upbringing; if it weren’t for you, I might have ended up as foolish as all your children. Why waste time on someone who is old and still applying skin lightening products to attract men? At least my parents were married and had money, while you have nothing but an evil heart. You are as good as dead to me and never existed in my life.” I spat on her face and walked away.
As I slowly walked to my car, it was only a few steps, but to me, it felt like a long walk to freedom. The moment my car left that yard, I felt the heaviness that had burdened my body start to lift. I felt alive again, and I knew it was time to focus on my husband’s funeral, accept my situation, and embark on the healing journey.
We went to a secret location to keep my husband’s body for a night, and it was brought home the following day in a casket that honoured his service. As for that cheaper cas
ket, I sent it back to his parents; they could keep it for themselves.
On the day of the burial, I wasn't myself, but I made sure that those armed men prevented any of Tonny's family members from entering the cemetery. I knew they were outside, but I ensured they wouldn't see even a glimpse of Tonny's casket. We buried my husband with dignity and then returned home.
My family stayed with me for two weeks, along with some friends. However, once they left, the reality of the situation hit me hard. I had flashbacks of what happened during the week of Tonny's funeral. I could still see him and smell him in our room. To be honest, I miss him with all my heart. I wish God had spared his life so he could see our children grow up.
As for Tonny's parents, they've labeled me a witch and continue to send me threatening messages. They threaten to burn my house, claiming it was their son’s home, and I made sure they never had access to his grave. I instructed the cemetery's gatekeeper not to give a key to anyone wanting to visit Tonny's grave. They say I'm heartless, but I want to show them what true heartlessness means.
For now, I am taking it slow to heal and trying to live a normal life again. I know it won’t be easy, but through God’s strength, I will find the courage to be strong and heal.
Dear Diary, this is our last chapter.
The end.
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