Sadness envelopes me. My heart feels like a jagged crack has been rent through it, and then cement has been used to block the gaping crevice.
I stare up at the familiar white ceilings, the sterile walls around me seem to mock me. Sleep offers me no solace. Her voice haunts me in my slumber.
Sade was my one and only true love, she was my sanity. She was inadvertently my end.
I met her on a hot, sweaty night. It was at a mutual friend’s party and she was the most petite person I’d ever seen. I became stuck on her in that moment. I walked up to her and said “…”. I said nothing. For the first time in my life, my words which used to be my most trusted and reliable ally deserted me, she looked at me intently and smiled. “My name is Sade, no one has ever been speechless for me before” she said. My words decided to make an appearance at this point. “My name is Eri-” it was just a cameo appearance my words chose to make. It went on like that all night, her talking and me drooling. We ended up back at my apartment that night. The throes of passion consumed us and afterwards I knew my life had become hers.
Sixty-five dates, three fights and one proposal later we were married. The first three years were the best of my life. She worked as an editor on a blog, so she basically worked from home. I worked as an OAP in a radio station and also as a hype man on the side. I always worked the night show at the station, so most of our afternoons were spent in the throes of love-making and basically goofing around our two bedroom apartment. Life was fun and uncomplicated. We were not super rich but we were not average either. The fountain of love overflowed into our home and hearts every day.
The icing on the cake came three years into our union when Sade got pregnant. I cried into her arms that night as she gave me the news. I was doing it, doing what my deadbeat father couldn’t do. I was making a family. I was a provider, not a lowlife drunk. I was about to have a proper family. At least that was what I thought.
At the end of the eighth month, Sade bled. We lost the baby that had been healthy and kicking that same morning. Sade was torn, I was broken.
We nursed each other back to life and as the Good Lord would have it, Sade got pregnant again a year later. I quit my hype man side gig and switched to the day show at the radio station. I wasn’t going to let Sade bleed again. I often held her hand as she slept and would most times find myself praying that she carried to term. Anytime the baby would kick, Sade and I would be ecstatic and I’d shed a tear or two because that meant that our bundle of Joy was still with us.
Then came that afternoon when her water broke. Till today I can’t even remember or fathom how I drove to the hospital without running us into a ditch. Sade as usual was my calming rock and I could already picture my small happy family. I waited in the sterile hall of the delivery wing in the hospital, waiting, hoping and praying for my wife and child.
Two hours later I felt a jerk in my heart, a cool soothing breeze wafted by my cheek. The doctor came out of the delivery room; she had a terrible poker face.
My Sade died at 4.25 pm yesterday after giving birth to our child. A healthy boy. I’ve not seen him or spoken a word since 4.25pm 03/02/2015.
Today’s date is 02/04/2015.