Fresh Start
I was in a confused state of mind. Actually, I'd been that way since I saw his lifeless form. Subconsciously, I'd stared again at the picture on my wall and again, it'd brought unwanted memories.
He'd promised. He promised he'd never leave after I told him all I'd been through. "I'd always be here for you", he said " I'd be your support through your darkest times." Then he left, he'd gone to the world of no return, a place I couldn't reach. I'd closed my eyes and turned my back on his smiling face, noting to myself to take it down later.
It'd been over two weeks since his burial and time hadn't numbed the pain of his passing. It'd still been a shock to me - that he wasn't coming back. Involuntarily, I'd wiped my hand down my face to discover fresh tears. I hadn't stopped crying yet. He died through an 'accident'. His ID had been found in his back pocket and I'd been called to identify his corpse. After an autopsy was conducted, it'd been clear to me that his death was intentional and a smart person had a hand in it but no one believed me. 'Steven wasn't a threat to anyone', some said. 'Who in their right mind wanted Steven dead?' Another asked. From one investigation to another, it was concluded that it might have been a mistaken identity IF (For the condition was greatly emphasized on) it wasn't an accident. With all the facts that'd been posed, I let myself believe it was a mistake. An accident.
A few months after his burial, I'd improved a bit - in the eating and not getting lost in my head aspect, I mean. My sister and in-laws frequently spent time with me as we all mourned and moved on together. One evening, we were eating while watching the 6pm news when we heard the story. Two cult groups had a bloody clash a few days earlier at an area a small distance from where we lived.
"It was reported that the cults fight were as a result of the death of one of their top members. Steven Gerald Frank was asked to offer his mother for an unmentioned sacrifice but he refused. He insisted to offer his wife instead. His cult agreed but when the rival cult group got wind of the information, they disagreed because it was against their general laws. Steven Gerald Frank reportedly refused to heed the warnings they posed and was killed during an argument that escalated. The members of Frank's cult went up for revenge".
I'd stared at the screen some more, hoping it wasn't my husband. But then, they'd pulled up his picture, the same smiling one on the wall of the bedroom we shared. I'd felt my head spin, my throat closed up with something heavy. Tears fill my eyes, waiting for some sort of signal to pour. Noticing the heavy silence in the room, I'd looked around the dining table, my sister had appeared to be in a daze, my brother-in-law's jaw was slack as he'd looked at me.
" Jesus!!!" Came the pained scream of my mother in-law then she'd fallen to the floor in a faint.
That'd seemed to get everyone moving at the same time as we'd all struggled to prevent the fall that had already taken place.
From that day, I became grateful. Each time I thought of Steven's death, first I'd cry, for the false love and memories we shared. Then, something big and robust swelled on my inside. It was joy. Joy that I'd been saved. Joy on the new lease of life God gave to me. I took my life differently from that day. Every time I felt tired and like I wanted to give up, I remind myself that God gave me this.
Thinking about it now, I feel the familiar swell of emotions within me and I fall on my knees, letting it out.
"My Lord", I sob, gripping the pillow I held earlier firm against my face.
"My Lover". And because I have no more words for the things that press my heart, I open up and let Him speak through me.
