My name is Nwanneka, My husband died at the age of 46, he was 8 years older than I was.
He was cheerful and full of life which was why his death from heart failure left everyone in shock except for his family who thought I had a hand in his death.

Prior to hubby’s death he had had a rife with some members of his family because of me. Somehow I had ‘stepped on his sister’s toes’ and instead of him supporting his sister, hubby took my side which angered his relatives.

Hubby then told them to stay away from us if they were going to keep making trouble with me. For a long time, we tried to put the issue behind us and stay clear of family matters for sake of peace. Then death came knocking and my dear husband answered the call leaving me to the cruel hands of a world of grief.

I knew my life was over and kept wailing that ‘I am finished’ while hitting my head on the wall. I just wanted to die.

I was too stricken with grief to coordinate myself or notice what was going on around me. Then my closest friend came to give her support, she tried all she could to calm me down.

Later that night when I was a bit calm, she told me to do something bizarre. My friend asked me to take away the papers of the building we live in which was built by my late husband.
I was confused and reluctant at first but she insisted and told me I’d soon find out why she asked me to do that. So I gave the papers to my 16 year old son who just like his father is very smart at comprehending situations.

Later the next day, my in-laws came and barely had they settled down when they asked that I bring the documents of the house. Stunned and prepared at the same time, I told them what my friend had taught me to say. I told them that their brother never gave me the papers of the house and that he alone handled all the documents of our properties.

When I said this, they looked from one person to the other before raising their doubts at what I said. I then told them to feel free to search the house which they did.

Meanwhile, my husband’s closest friend whom I had involved in the plan, told my in-laws that my husband once told him he was about to sell the house and that they should find out if he really did sell it.

After my in-laws left in disappointment to prepare for the burial rites of my late husband, my friend advised that I pack out of that house so that nobody would know the truth as she sensed they won’t give up easily.

So I did pack out even before the burial. My in-laws searched the house for months and tried finding out who bought the house without any success.

I waited for the situation to die down and later placed the house on rent. Today, I’m living on the rent from that house and taking care of the children I bore for my husband.
I could have been another victim of widowhood blues but for God who used my dear friend’s counsel to rescue me.


  1. I bless God for that friend of yours, now you living happily with your kids. I bet you’re igbo they could actually be terrible sometimes


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