Edwin Igbokwe opens up on his grief and denial following the death of
his wife, Christy Essien Igbokwe, three years ago and how he’s been
coping with life
Thirty five years ago, I married my soul mate and lifetime partner. She
was Nigeria’s lady of songs, the late Christy Essien Igbokwe. I was a
26-year-old executive at The Punch while she was a 19-year-old
songstress and actress that mesmerised Nigeria’s entertainment and
theatre scenes with her young, affable innocence. Through those years,
we celebrated togetherness and profound love, a love I felt the first
time I blessed my eyes on her; a love that grew stronger each sunrise,
until 9a.m, June 30, 2011. With each day’s sunset, our love blossomed,
like flowers bloomed in spring. We stayed as one through the challenges
of life. There were years of aches and pains, tears of joy and
electrifying laughter. We stayed together and survived the rough and
tumbles of life. We shared everything until it was time for her to go.
She lived half a century.
“As I walked down Jebose Boulevard, I tried to accept
and appreciate all that life privileged after her eternal transition.
It is over three years since Christy died. The denials, the depressions,
forward from her death are paths to healing. I missed and mourned her
tenderly. Time and support from friends and family were therapies to a
second chance at life, living and loving. No one understands the
discomfort and trauma of losing a dear family member such as your
siblings, your parents or wife, a dearest lifetime partner; (the
cherished one you swore before God and the people to love till death do
us part), until it happened to them: We are never the same when we lose
those that we loved and admired. A part of us leaves with them. Every
one of us would come to that place in our lifetime; what matters is how
we handled our different circumstances and who would be there to comfort
us as we grieved. The mourning season may never end. I can imagine days
of guilt, days of tear drops on the pillows and silent wails for losing
my dearest wife. The pain is part of passionate memories, of a
privileged, shared moment in our lives. These walks with you, Jebose,
ignited emotional past pains of losing my late wife and a closure of
tragic and traumatic chapters of my life.
Christy was special and spectacular. She was a prophet. She revealed
when she would die to the children and by extension, to me: she revealed
to us that she had only half a century in this ‘wicked world;’ she told
me that when death came, it would be middle of the year. She shared
with close friends and members of the family, her end time. I always
dismissed her because I was not ready to lose her. She told our children
that she would live for 50 years and that any single day thereafter,
they should be thanking God. She died June 30, 2011 at age 50.
During one of our affectionate conversations, she told me she would be
sick for three days before her death. She said she would exit without
burden to anyone or herself. I didn’t believe, until it happened: four
days before her death, she complained of stomach ache. We went to the
hospital for scanning and treatment: the hospital placed her on
overnight admission and began treatment, but she wanted to go home. Her
desire to go home was bolstered by hospital’s electric power
interruption. The hospital’s generator was also broken down. She said
rather weakly, that she wanted to go home since the hospital had no
electricity. I honoured her request. We left the hospital for our home.
Halfway into our street, the doctor called and informed me that the
generator suddenly activated, surprisingly nothing was wrong with it, we
could return to continue treatment; we were almost home, my wife said
she didn’t want to go back to the hospital.
“The next day, the illness continued at home. She refused to go back to
the hospital: the doctor came to the house and placed her on a drip.
Even though she was weak, she was active and independent; she refused
any assistance; not even a support on the staircase and into the car, as
we set out for hospital again, having encouraged her to return to a
different hospital for re-examination. I drove her into the waiting arms
of doctors who further examined my late wife in a specialist hospital
(Lagos State University Teaching Hospital, Ikeja). She was placed on
admission. She was seeing things and in her own world, as she lay ill,
she was concerned about the staff and other patients in the hospital.
She was kept overnight because of the diagnosis. The second night, she
requested prayer warriors to begin intense prayers, not for her but for
us, the living, and for her peaceful transition. She encouraged nurses
in the hospital to pray: she would whisper prayer points and choruses.
She muttered some messages to our God-son, George, who was with me in
the hospital. We went into frenzy shouting for joy when she mentioned
that ‘we were victorious and it was all over.’ By 5.30am June 30, 2011,
we witnessed deteriorating changes in her health. I phoned Obi, our
first son, and he quickly arrived at the hospital to assist. I dashed
out to seek a transfer for her to another (the intensive care) room in
the hospital. I left Obi and George with pastors and prayer warriors who
arrived to pray with us. Something happened while I was gone. The mood
changed when I returned. I smelt sadness from the travelling breeze
within. The mood was solemn. I saw the sad faces of hospital staff and
my son: I felt strange. Everyone from the doctors tried to find a way to
tell me she had died… One of the midwives called me to the side and
said I should brace up because my wife died few minutes then. That
morning of her death, pastors and other prayer warriors ended morning
prayer in her room; she whispered amen, and then slept off. It was
exactly 9a.m. I felt dazed, shocked and awed when I was told I lost my
‘everything,’ my companion and the love of my life. Jebose, I caved into
denial zone. We immediately moved her body to a room in our home,
unknown to many. My late wife warned that her body must not be deposited
in the mortuary. I had to respect her wishes. So we decorated a room in
our house and laid her down. She was beautiful, peaceful in her sleep.
The media and the enlarged burial committee members didn’t know where
she was after her death. She lay in that room for almost three months. I
was going crazy. I didn’t want to believe she would not wake up. She
was smiling peacefully. I couldn’t believe it. I made sure I looked at
her every day. I was confused, depressed, dejected and hopeless. The
children began to monitor me. I was still in denial, hoping she was
asleep… she would wake up. I kept reassuring myself. She never did.
“I finally accepted her death when the pallbearers came into that room
and placed her in a coffin for the Commendation Service at Arch Bishop
Vining Memorial Cathedral, Ikeja on September 9, 2011 and from there
later through the Muritala Mohammed Airport, Ikeja to Akanu Ibiam, Enugu
airport en route Awka, Anambra State for funeral service and burial the
next day. I knew then, that my best friend, my partner, my soul mate,
the mother of my beautiful children, was truly gone.
“After the burial, I was alone and lonely, I felt guilty for her death. I
never expected to bury my wife. I always prayed that when my time was
up, she, our children and grandchildren would bury me. I began to
question God in these transitional periods: I was near complete
depression because life was no longer interesting to me: I was lonely
and mourning my wife. I was empty. I told everyone that I would never
remarry because no woman could replace my late wife. I was suicidal.
After her burial, the pain continued as life began to settle into
normalcy, I began to see her in my dreams, encouraging me to live my
life. She said she knew if I had the privilege of spending more time
with her, I would have corrected certain things in our lives. She said I
must move on with my life. Throughout our 32 years, we shared
everything: we never separated from the same bedroom. The only time we
separated was when we kept her body in a separate room while planning
her funeral. Counselling from well-wishers helped me to begin to accept a
life without her.
“Her appearances in my dreams encouraged me to move on. In one of such
appearances, she told me: “I came and I have fulfilled my destiny on
earth. I wished I stayed longer but that was my destiny and God’s words
must surely come to pass in our lives. I am not coming again. I am happy
where I am. It is well with all of you! Please I want to be remembered
always in happiness. Stop getting worried any longer because you do most
times. You cry often for missing me and wished that I lived so that you
make some amends. It is too late now. You should move on. Your focus
should be how to live long for our kids. Advise them properly and
correct them positively whenever they go wrong, for their own good. Take
good care of them and their offsprings as long as you witness and
always bless and not curse any of them. (She smiled…..) I never cursed
any of them. I only tried to make them look forward to being independent
as my last days on earth approached. Because you need to live long for
the kids, you can remarry instead of running into some temptations that
are building up. Pray hard. God will show you the right person. The
person should not be very young. She must be older than our first kid.
She must be able to stand in for the sake of the kids but she must not
participate directly as one of the owners in any of our already
established companies unless with express permission of all the kids.
She will obey you. I must be respected. You know other things that would
make the relationship to be soothing to me in death and useful to you
in life unless if you want to continue to deceive yourself. You must not
allow her do anything you know would not be pleasing. You are an
intelligent man, I did say this often and I leave you to your conscience
(she smiled…) till we meet to part no more. My love to all still
existing and I want all to know this.”
“If she didn’t appear to me in my dreams, I wouldn’t have remarried. I
remarried after three years of her death. Time reversed everything. I
didn’t want a situation where I would be bringing different women to our
home: After the dreams, I began to consider marriage again. Being alone
may not be the problem, the problem is the temptations that loneliness
and being alone ferment. That would be very disrespectful to her memory
and our children. I remarried, with her blessings. I am no longer
mourning but her memories are indelible.”
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