I Swore I’d Never Marry Again After My Husband Died, Then His Ghost Said “No”

I was six months pregnant when my husband had an accident and died. I was devastated. I thought my world was coming to an end. He was a good man …

I Swore I’d Never Marry Again After My Husband Died, Then His Ghost Said “No”

I was six months pregnant when my husband had an accident and died. I was devastated. I thought my world was coming to an end. He was a good man who became a good husband to me. I’d never known a man with his kind of heart. At one point, he was like a father to me. “Esi, do it this way and it will work.” I would do it and it would work massively. When I was down and confused, I ran to him. There was no problem he couldn’t help me solve, but on that fateful day, when he was returning after visiting his parents, he died.

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No goodbye. No “Take care of yourself.” Nothing. One day he was with me. The next day he was gone. I had a series of dreams where I was dead with him. In another dream, my child had been born prematurely and was struggling to live. Prayer was my friend. My family and friends came together to help me face the darkness that had fallen on me.

At his graveside, I made a promise. I promised I would never marry anyone else but rather raise our kid into the kind of man he would be proud of. “There’s no love without you, Eben,” I said. “There’s no need trying again when you’re not here. No one is like you.”

I gave birth to a boy. I named him after him. I was determined to do it all. We had a house we didn’t complete. My dream was to build it and move into it as soon as possible. I met men who promised me heaven on earth. I said no. Ben asked me, “Why don’t you want to love again? You’re young and deserve to move on.”

The thought of moving on felt like an insult to the memory of my husband. “Move on? If you were my husband and you died, would you want me to move on in this short period?” He got me angry just because he asked me to move on. I cut the little friendship I had with him and even blocked his number.

Pressure came from far and near, especially after my widowhood rite. My dad said it subtly; “Get a man for the child. Later he would give your child siblings to play with.” My mom shrouded her request in prayers; “Esi, I prayed for you last night. God says you should not harden your heart because he has good things coming your way.”

I would say amen and still go out there to push those God has sent my way away. I found love tiring. I found starting all over again a chore I didn’t have the engine for. Some nights I cried when I missed my husband. I would sleep with his photo at the headboard of my bed. I would ask why he left so soon. Tears would drop on the frame but no answer would come from him.

I went to the building site one day and saw, “Stop work and produce permit” boldly written with red paint on my building. I had to go to the Assembly to talk to someone for help. I entered an office and saw this man who smiled warmly to welcome me. I told him my problem and he said, “Oh, you’re in the wrong office. Come, let me show you.”

He pointed at the right office and mentioned the name I should mention when I get there. I knocked at the door and no one responded. I came back to him and told him no one was there. He told me to wait for a while or I could go and come next time. I waited for over an hour until I was told they had gone to the field and the boss was also at a meeting outside the office.

He asked me to give him my number. He said, “I’ll talk to the boss when he comes. I’ll call you afterwards.”

That very night when I went to sleep, I had a dream and saw my husband smiling. He said, “Marry him. He’s a good man.” “Who are you talking about?” I asked. “The man you met today in that office. Have I ever told you something that didn’t work? Trust me.”

My eyes opened and I slapped myself for waking up from such a dream. It was the first time I was seeing him after he died three years ago. “Marry who? That man didn’t even look like someone who was interested in me. How?”

Three days later, the man called. I asked his name and he said Elvis. He told me I could come the next day to see the boss and that he had already told him everything. “I even told him you were my sister so he would make things easier,” he told me.

I went to the assembly again and spoke to the man in charge. He was indeed helpful. He led me through the corridors of the office and showed me where I should pay what and what to do next. When I was leaving, I went to Elvis’ office and said thank you. I was looking for a sign that said he might be interested in me but saw nothing. I told myself, “It was just a dream.”

Weeks later, I asked myself, “What if it isn’t?”

I called Elvis again and said thank you. He asked, “How many times do you want to say thank you? It’s fine. I’m happy you’re happy.” We talked for a while and before he hung up I asked, “But why are you not married? Pardon my intrusiveness.”

He asked, “Do you have someone for me?” he asked while laughing. This led us into territories where two people who just met shouldn’t go. I hung up knowing he would call me again in a few days. It wasn’t a few days. He called back that same day.

We met one day. I told him my story: how my husband died when I was six months pregnant. He was sad for me and was trying hard to console me. I said, “The funny thing is, the last time I saw him in a dream, he said I should marry you. I’d only known you for a few hours.”

He thought I was joking so he asked me, jokingly, “How did he know my plans even before I did?”

Today, we have two more kids and have been married for eleven years. It hurts my heart every day when I have to admit that what I have now is everything I ever dreamed of when I was with Eben. I don’t know if I could have attained this level of happiness with him if he lived longer than he did, so I’ve learned not to compare but rather enjoy each day as it unfolds.

It’s very hard to erase Eben from my memory because no matter how I choose to tell my story, whether from the beginning to the end or from the end to the beginning, he will still be there, at the center where he belongs.

—Esi Bilson

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