My own pain is still fresh - when life hits you like this…
Chai… this life eh, sometimes e go just hold you for neck like say you offend am. Reality go just kpai you from back and you go stand dey look the sky like, “God, na so this life be?”
That was exactly how Kate, a young woman whose tears never fully dried since her husband passed, felt the morning her two friends Debby and Candice came to visit her.
She had just buried her husband a few weeks earlier. People were still coming and going but in her heart, she had already begun to taste that bitter truth every widow understands too early:
When the world promise you heaven and earth, na mouth dem take talk am.
When you need help truly, na silence you go hear.
When you check your phone, na “seen” go greet you.
That day, something different happened. Something healing. Something bitter but true. Something powerful.
Kate sat on her plastic chair, wrapper tiredly knotted around her chest, hair scattered from stress and crying. Her two children played quietly in one corner, unusually calm as if they understood life had changed forever.
Then a knock came.
“Kate , biko meghee uzo…”(Please open the door)
She wiped her eyes and opened the door. Standing there with pure empathy were her two friends Debby and Candice, both widows, both warriors, both women who had walked the path she was just entering.
They hugged her tightly. Not the casual hug. The kind that communicates pain, sisterhood, survival and understanding without words.
As they entered, Kate managed a weak smile.
“Nne, unu abiala… thank you.”
They sat. The room felt heavy. Debby was the first to speak.
Debby’s voice trembled:
“Kate… this journey no be here o. Widowhood is far more than the road wey get toll gate.”
She held Kate’s hands.
“People go promise you in front of your children… big big promise—‘I’ll pay school fees… I’ll support you… call me anytime…’”
She laughed painfully.
“Call? If you like call tire. Nobody go pick.”
“Text? You go send message sotey your finger go pain you. Nobody go reply.”
Kate swallowed hard. It felt too familiar already.
Debby continued, her voice breaking:
“After my own husband passed, I carried my load for head like gala seller. I face my God… and Nne, He has been faithful.”
Then she added the ugly part, the part society hides:
“Onyinye ha bu weta isi, bia were isi.”
(The kind of help some men offer widows, e get as e be.)
Her eyes darkened as she said:
“Some men go help you only if you give them your body. Ndi na-ede ohu gi. Imagine. A widow mourning and person dey reason her waist.”
Kate covered her mouth as tears fell.
She wasn’t alone after all.
Then Candice spoke. She had been widowed for seven years. Her strength was carved from battle.
“Kate, since seven years I lost my husband, nobody, I mean nobody asked me how I dey manage with my children. Not even the ones wey chop my food before. People you feed become people wey dey avoid you.”
She lifted her chin.
“ God? Ah! God of widows no dey sleep.”
Then she revealed something deeper, something raw:
“Sometimes the pain go hook me. Sometimes I feel like maybe I am the worst sinner but later I realize, my situation na part of life. One day, I go come out of it.”
Kate’s tears fell freely now.
Her heart felt naked.
These women were speaking her own thoughts.
Candice then shared the experience that broke her spirit but rebuilt her faith:
“One day I go meet my husband’s friend for small help. Nne, you know wetin he tell me?
‘I can’t help you because I no know wetin kpai your husband.’”
Kate gasped.
Debby clenched her teeth.
Candice shook her head slowly.
“That day I cried until strength left my body. I stood up to fight the battle alone because if i give up my children go suffer well well.
The room became quiet. Kate wiped her eyes again.
“My own pain still dey fresh,” she whispered.
“Even before i bury my husband, promises full everywhere. After burial? Everybody disappear.”
Her voice cracked.
“Even the ones wey say they go take care of my children till today, nothing. If I call dem, dem no go pick. Message dem? No reply.”
Candice and Debby held her closer.
Kate continued:
“I thank God for the gift of life and strength. You see this journey? Na only person wey wear the shoe know where e dey pain.”
She looked at her children.
“My biggest fear now be if i wan remarry because I no fit think about only myself. My two children still dey mourn their father. Their future dey my hand. Their pain dey my chest.”
Debby touched Kate’s shoulder gently and quoted this adage:
“Azota ala, ewezowa ute.”(It is after you secure the ground that you struggle for the mat). This is a reminder that life happens in phases and one must establish a stable foundation before seeking comfort.
Then Candice added another adage:
“Ehi na enweghi odu, Chi ya na a churu ya Ijiji”( A cow that has no tail, its God (Chi) that chases away flies for it).
Kate felt something warm spread through her chest.
Candice opened her small Bible and read:
“A father to the fatherless, a defender of widows, is God in His holy dwelling.” – Psalm 68:5
The words floated through the room like healing oil.
Debby and Candice highlights this truth for kate:
Promises don’t raise children; God does.
People who eat your food can still abandon you.
A widow’s tears are not weakness, they are cleansing.
Some men see vulnerability as opportunity but God sees it as His duty.
Strength is not in smiling; it is in standing.
Widowhood is not a curse, it is a battle badge.
Before leaving, Debby held Kate’s hands and said:
“From today, shut some doors against men. Hold your body. Avoid the ones wey dey see widow as prey. Focus on your children. Focus on God. Focus on survival.”
Candice added:
“We go stand with you. No widow should walk alone. That is why we came.”
Kate felt hope, for the first time in weeks.
Morals
Life may hit you hard but God won’t abandon you.
People will disappear but destiny helpers will show up one day.
Your tears today will become your testimony tomorrow.
Widowhood does not end your life, it only shapes your strength.
Hold God. Hold yourself. Hold your children. Leave the rest for God to fight your seen and unseen battles for you.
Finally to every widow out there:
May God continue to strengthen you, uphold you, defend you and supply all your needs.
Your story will not end in pain.
Your children will rise and call you blessed.
Your tomorrow will be better than your yesterday.
Amen.
Share this story to encourage a widow
Support a widow around you, sometimes healing starts with a small kindness.
Drop a prayer for widows in the comments.
Follow @Elizabeth Akudo for more powerful, heart-touching stories.
© Elizabeth Akudo — All Rights Reserved #WidowsStrength #NigerianStory #FaithInHardTimes #GodOfTheWidow #IgboCulture #InspirationalNigeria #TrueLifeStory #HopeAndHealing
Chai… this life eh, sometimes e go just hold you for neck like say you offend am. Reality go just kpai you from back and you go stand dey look the sky like, “God, na so this life be?”
That was exactly how Kate, a young woman whose tears never fully dried since her husband passed, felt the morning her two friends Debby and Candice came to visit her.
She had just buried her husband a few weeks earlier. People were still coming and going but in her heart, she had already begun to taste that bitter truth every widow understands too early:
When the world promise you heaven and earth, na mouth dem take talk am.
When you need help truly, na silence you go hear.
When you check your phone, na “seen” go greet you.
That day, something different happened. Something healing. Something bitter but true. Something powerful.
Kate sat on her plastic chair, wrapper tiredly knotted around her chest, hair scattered from stress and crying. Her two children played quietly in one corner, unusually calm as if they understood life had changed forever.
Then a knock came.
“Kate , biko meghee uzo…”(Please open the door)
She wiped her eyes and opened the door. Standing there with pure empathy were her two friends Debby and Candice, both widows, both warriors, both women who had walked the path she was just entering.
They hugged her tightly. Not the casual hug. The kind that communicates pain, sisterhood, survival and understanding without words.
As they entered, Kate managed a weak smile.
“Nne, unu abiala… thank you.”
They sat. The room felt heavy. Debby was the first to speak.
Debby’s voice trembled:
“Kate… this journey no be here o. Widowhood is far more than the road wey get toll gate.”
She held Kate’s hands.
“People go promise you in front of your children… big big promise—‘I’ll pay school fees… I’ll support you… call me anytime…’”
She laughed painfully.
“Call? If you like call tire. Nobody go pick.”
“Text? You go send message sotey your finger go pain you. Nobody go reply.”
Kate swallowed hard. It felt too familiar already.
Debby continued, her voice breaking:
“After my own husband passed, I carried my load for head like gala seller. I face my God… and Nne, He has been faithful.”
Then she added the ugly part, the part society hides:
“Onyinye ha bu weta isi, bia were isi.”
(The kind of help some men offer widows, e get as e be.)
Her eyes darkened as she said:
“Some men go help you only if you give them your body. Ndi na-ede ohu gi. Imagine. A widow mourning and person dey reason her waist.”
Kate covered her mouth as tears fell.
She wasn’t alone after all.
Then Candice spoke. She had been widowed for seven years. Her strength was carved from battle.
“Kate, since seven years I lost my husband, nobody, I mean nobody asked me how I dey manage with my children. Not even the ones wey chop my food before. People you feed become people wey dey avoid you.”
She lifted her chin.
“ God? Ah! God of widows no dey sleep.”
Then she revealed something deeper, something raw:
“Sometimes the pain go hook me. Sometimes I feel like maybe I am the worst sinner but later I realize, my situation na part of life. One day, I go come out of it.”
Kate’s tears fell freely now.
Her heart felt naked.
These women were speaking her own thoughts.
Candice then shared the experience that broke her spirit but rebuilt her faith:
“One day I go meet my husband’s friend for small help. Nne, you know wetin he tell me?
‘I can’t help you because I no know wetin kpai your husband.’”
Kate gasped.
Debby clenched her teeth.
Candice shook her head slowly.
“That day I cried until strength left my body. I stood up to fight the battle alone because if i give up my children go suffer well well.
The room became quiet. Kate wiped her eyes again.
“My own pain still dey fresh,” she whispered.
“Even before i bury my husband, promises full everywhere. After burial? Everybody disappear.”
Her voice cracked.
“Even the ones wey say they go take care of my children till today, nothing. If I call dem, dem no go pick. Message dem? No reply.”
Candice and Debby held her closer.
Kate continued:
“I thank God for the gift of life and strength. You see this journey? Na only person wey wear the shoe know where e dey pain.”
She looked at her children.
“My biggest fear now be if i wan remarry because I no fit think about only myself. My two children still dey mourn their father. Their future dey my hand. Their pain dey my chest.”
Debby touched Kate’s shoulder gently and quoted this adage:
“Azota ala, ewezowa ute.”(It is after you secure the ground that you struggle for the mat). This is a reminder that life happens in phases and one must establish a stable foundation before seeking comfort.
Then Candice added another adage:
“Ehi na enweghi odu, Chi ya na a churu ya Ijiji”( A cow that has no tail, its God (Chi) that chases away flies for it).
Kate felt something warm spread through her chest.
Candice opened her small Bible and read:
“A father to the fatherless, a defender of widows, is God in His holy dwelling.” – Psalm 68:5
The words floated through the room like healing oil.
Debby and Candice highlights this truth for kate:
Promises don’t raise children; God does.
People who eat your food can still abandon you.
A widow’s tears are not weakness, they are cleansing.
Some men see vulnerability as opportunity but God sees it as His duty.
Strength is not in smiling; it is in standing.
Widowhood is not a curse, it is a battle badge.
Before leaving, Debby held Kate’s hands and said:
“From today, shut some doors against men. Hold your body. Avoid the ones wey dey see widow as prey. Focus on your children. Focus on God. Focus on survival.”
Candice added:
“We go stand with you. No widow should walk alone. That is why we came.”
Kate felt hope, for the first time in weeks.
Morals
Life may hit you hard but God won’t abandon you.
People will disappear but destiny helpers will show up one day.
Your tears today will become your testimony tomorrow.
Widowhood does not end your life, it only shapes your strength.
Hold God. Hold yourself. Hold your children. Leave the rest for God to fight your seen and unseen battles for you.
Finally to every widow out there:
May God continue to strengthen you, uphold you, defend you and supply all your needs.
Your story will not end in pain.
Your children will rise and call you blessed.
Your tomorrow will be better than your yesterday.
Amen.
Share this story to encourage a widow
Support a widow around you, sometimes healing starts with a small kindness.
Drop a prayer for widows in the comments.
Follow @Elizabeth Akudo for more powerful, heart-touching stories.
© Elizabeth Akudo — All Rights Reserved #WidowsStrength #NigerianStory #FaithInHardTimes #GodOfTheWidow #IgboCulture #InspirationalNigeria #TrueLifeStory #HopeAndHealing
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