After mourning her fiance who died one week to their wedding, Hannah is ready to let go of the past but the pain is still too difficult to bear.
Today, December 7, 2016, makes it two years since death snatched Stanley from me on Sunday, December 2014, just one week to our wedding and since then, life has been meaningless for me.
I met Stanley at 18 when I gained admission into the university and ours was love at first sight as we clicked the moment we set eyes on each other.
He was in his third year and we met while I was trying to register for my courses. Stan took over my registrations and made things so easy for me. I knew he felt something for me and I also felt the same way towards him but he was very shy and could not open up to me.
We remained friends for over a year before he summoned the courage to tell me he was in love with me. I told him I knew all along and that I was also in love with him and we kicked off a relationship that became the envy of all.
We were inseparable and did almost everything together. Stan loved and respected me so much. When I told him I was a virgin and not ready to be deflowered, Stan understood and said he was willing to wait till the right time, a decision I still bless him till today.
We only got to make love for the first time after my final year and he had come home to meet my parents and made his intention of marrying me known to them.
It was the most enchanting feeling to lose my virginity to a man I loved with all my heart and would soon get married to, but little did I know that I was living in a dream world as the cold heads of death snatched my only love, the only man that made my world go around, from me.
Preparations for our wedding was in top gear with the two families putting finishing touches to it. My friends too could not stop talking about the wedding as the excitement was palpable.
I remember December 7, 2014, vividly as Stan had called me from Port Harcourt that he was on his way back to Lagos. He had gone to represent his company at a conference and stayed for a week.
He was supposed to come with the flight his company had booked for him but he said he wanted to see some of his old-school mates in Benin before coming to Lagos that day.
I waited for him to call that he was at the park so I could go and pick him but I waited in vain. When I called his phones, they were switched off and I became worried. I called his brother and friends but no one could get across to him but they all assured me Stan was a big boy and could take care of himself.
But at about 3am, I got a call from a strange number that would shatter my world forever. The call was from an official of the Federal Road Safety Corps (FRSC), telling me that my Stan was involved in an accident along the Benin-Ore road and that his family should come to Benin the next day.
I asked the man if Stan was okay and he assured me he was. I quickly called his younger brother who told me to remain calm that he and other family members would go to Benin immediately. I insisted on going with them but he refused and said I should wait for them to come back.
To cut the story short, my Stan was found in a mortuary, very dead. When they told me, I passed out and when I came to two weeks later, Stanley had been buried and the most painful thing apart from not paying him my last respects was that I lost the three months’ pregnancy I was carrying for him.
I have cried every day since that black Sunday and every December 7 will never remain the same for me.
My friends and family, even Stan’s family want me to move on with my life but it has not been possible.
Dear readers, having read Hannah’s heart-rending story on Morning Teaser today, what would you advise her to do?