my name is Emem and I have been a widow for 5 years now. I am a nurse and used to be full of life and light until wicked people snuffed out that light and took away life as I used to know it. The incident that led to my husband’s death was largely blamed on me. Friends and family have said to my face and behind my back that it was my fault, that I was reckless.
Before I get to how my husband Emma died, let me take you back into my marital life a bit.
I met my Emma during a visit to my home town and we instantly took to each other, we dated and courted for 3 years until we were financially ready to start a family. We were both from the same state but different home towns and local government areas. Our families approved of the marriage and we had a decent traditional and white wedding in my home town; after which life began for us in earnest. We both worked in Port Harcourt and our life was pretty much cool and calm.
Barely a year into our marriage, things began to take a downturn. My husband lost his job at the bank but he soon got another job though with lesser pay. We had to manage by pulling together our small resources to get by each day.
My Widowhood journey
Three years later, luck smiled on us again and my husband got a large and profitable contract from his local government. He couldn’t contain his joy when he came home to give me the news along with the evidence. I almost passed out at seeing the huge sum of money he had been paid upfront. I was dancing and screaming in excitement at the same time while my husband kept laughing from cheek to cheek. He had cashed some of the payment and had brought it home in a briefcase.
Excitedly, I took pictures of myself holding a bundle of cash and told my Emma to also take a picture of me holding the briefcase as a reminder of the day our lives changed. I was going to keep them as memories. I never realised I was plunging myself into widowhood
Our lives indeed changed for good as my husband diligently executed the project and was given the balance for the contract which was pretty much his profit. I could not contain my joy when he finished paying those he owed and brought the rest of the cash home to show me. We planned to deposit the money into our joint account the next day and considered investing some of the money into my online shopping business which was beginning to thrive.
Excitedly, I posted pictures of me flaunting bundles of naira notes with a caption that said God has changed my family’s story for good. I wanted to share the good news with the world especially my female friends from school who had been oppressing me on social media with their good lives. I wanted to tell them I too had arrived as well and make them envious of me. I didn’t know I was working against myself, shooting myself in the foot.
Few hours after my online post, armed robbers broke into our home and demanded for the money my husband brought home. He denied bringing any money home until one of them shot him in the ankle. My heart tore into shreds as my husband screamed in pain and was forced to tell them the location of the money.
Two of the robbers went to get the money from where my husband told them it was while the other three stood over us with our faces glued to the Floor.
The other two got the bag and came out to confirm it was the money, I thought they would just take the money and leave us, but alas they fired a shot at my husband and I as they were leaving.
My husband took several bullets from the daredevils. I was hit in a non-fatal spot, my arm. I began screaming as I heard robbers’ car speed off. Neighbours quickly called the police while some helped carry my husband to the hospital. I forgot about my wound as I rode with my husband to the hospital. He was pronounced dead on arrival. I was dazed and too shocked to cry or react at first, then I became wild with grief when I realised my husband was actually dead. He died on our happiest day.
The hardest part was when people began to say I was the one who broadcast our life and invited the robbers. My husband’s brothers showed people my post with the stack of money and told me to congratulate myself for giving robbers the license to rob and kill my husband.
I felt my world crumbling before my very eyes, and from then till now has been a downward spiral for me. I eventually miscarried the baby that would have been a sort of consolation for my husband’s death. Widowhood has been tough, the hardest part of it all is the guilt I carry. It is as if I pulled the gun myself on my dear Emma.
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In as much as this is a sad story, stories like this abound. People have been kidnapped, visited by armed robbers or had issues befall them via their careless social media habits.
Bad people abound and one of the ways they stalk is via social media. Keep your accounts private. Posts only to trusted friends, restrict the people that can see your posts and above all, be careful of what you put out there.
People don’t realise that once you have posted, you have no control. A few years ago, Kim Kardashian’s social media habits made her a victim of a high profile robbery in Paris of all places. This widowhood story truly passes us a tale on how to be more careful in life.