Easier

The Beginning After The Pause

The beginning after the pause?
It is said that love, true love that is, locates you once in your lifetime, I kind of disagree. Love comes in many forms and a lot of times we dismiss it.
Many are searching for it and yet it passes by simply because we hold on to the hurt of the past.
Childhood traumas, heartbreaks and disappointment causes us to overlook what’s right in front of us.
How can you trust someone else with your heart after tucking away all the hurt and allow someone new to see you vulnerable again?
Pain changes even the pope, many of us are in pain, trying to get healing and ways to survive each day. Pain from heartbreak tastes like the aloe plant.
I had that love, a whole fairy tale, only this time the princess didn’t get to live happily ever after with her prince charming.
Someone burnt the pages from my love story before I could get to page 10. 1 year into the love story and poof it was gone.
I think my guardian angel is always drunk or loves playing games with me or both because, 3 months into my grief , I met a stranger and well he has been patient and gentle even after all the pushing away I have tried.
Wait do I even have a guardian? My questions started a year ago when    prince charming was abruptly taken away from me and my life changed.
I’m still trying to figure out if it was for the worst, for the lesson or just the pain. God’s will ha-ha ask me about it, it hurts that one.
The straw that breaks the camel’s back. No negotiations, he serves you his will and you must deal.
I am dealing alright. I still love the big guy to bits. I threw a tantrum when I got served and then I asked myself ‘if not me, whose child must go through this'. God has a plan for my life and I’m holding onto that faith.
A colleague once asked  me why I still had faith in God, even after he took my husband so early in our marriage with only 1 child.
Her question derailed me for a few weeks, I started questioning my choice and sanity. I mean why would God betray me like that, I thought he and I were best friends.
I prayed every day. I gave to the needy, I  attended church every Sunday. It didn’t make any sense. I was depressed for weeks.
I couldn’t stand anyone, my parents took Lesedi to stay with them because they feared I would hurt her. I honestly wouldn’t do anything to hurt my parting gift from my husband.
I remembered who my husband was and how his last days were, Bongs prayed for me 3 times a day. He asked God to strengthen me and make me wiser daily. Any bad vibes he felt, we got on our knees and prayed.
I started praying again, the earlier days I fought with God. Like dude you gave me heaven on earth and now I must survive? Then I started asking for strength because my daughter already lost a dad, she needed me.
Mostly I needed myself back, I needed to be okay for me. Bongs hated it whenever I was sad. I wanted him to rest knowing we are okay. God pulled me through it, hence I still praise him.
The pain didn’t magically disappear.  It still hurts some days and other days. I am great. I hate the phrase “Everything happens for a reason.” I wish I could slap everyone who feels they know me enough to give me that.
I’d rather people leave me alone because, I know everything happens for a reason but why my husband? I am still waiting for a reason to show up, a year later.
I changed churches because of the stares and condolences. I am still search for one that will resonate with my spirit.
At Karabo’s wedding celebrations I thought I was losing my mind, the longest weekend I ever had. Not even praying calmed my emotions, or maybe I wasn’t breathing right due to the hurt I was experiencing.
I knew I needed to get help then as I had reached my breaking point. I prayed for strength, I prayed for sanity, I really thought I would go crazy from the lack of sleep. I would sleep for 3 hours max.
My heart felt painful physically. I went to the ER a few times believing I had a heart attack and a stroke; the pain paralyzed my left side from my neck to my hand. I couldn’t move my left-hand side  nor my neck.
I was referred to a clinical psychologist on my 3rd trip to the ER. I prayed for healing and strength to see Karabo’s wedding be a success, I was called selfish and an attention seeker a few months prior by my oldest sister, I needed to pull myself together for Karabo to shine.
God pulled me through even though I struggled opening to the psychologist, I was unable to breathe after the first session, I cried myself to sleep that night only to be woken up by nightmares of Bongs dying in my arms.
I vowed to never go back to that man, however watching my parents hurt on my behalf and always by my side instead of helping Karabo who had said I could skip the celebration, bless her heart.
I went back to therapy. It was good to share the load with a stranger, I could be as raw about my feelings and he wouldn’t judge me, or maybe he did, it was never evident on his face.
I was prepared for Karabo’s celebration, I had breathing techniques, I had my positivity mantras and I had God by my side. The clown I am believed the lies my psychologist filled in my head I was the boss. 
What could go wrong on this auspicious weekend. I am not the first woman to have her husband die then must attended a family event, right? Well, that’s what my aunt from Emalahleni, who drove all those hours to my house to command.
She said I needed to woman up. Ask my sister where I could help her. Did I mention that she came right after my dad left after I spent almost the whole morning in a holding cell. Bong’s death showed me a lot of action.
3 weeks after I buried my husband. His uncle came to the house and demanded that I leave the house and go to my parents’ house and hand over my house keys.
I refused that’s when he tried pushing me out, but I fought him. He hit his face on the coffee table. He and his wife left only to come back with the police claiming that I attacked them in their son’s house.
I gladly left with cops after locking the house. I was taken to the holding cell where I called my dad. He came with Mr Ngwalane who wasn’t pleased with his brother.
I got a restraining order against them. Mr Ngwalane promised to sort out his brother.
Refilwe Ngwalane is the name and I come back. Apparently, I am a widow who is enjoying ‘lefu le hae lang phidisa benefits.’ (Funeral policy money.)

Lerato, Lesedi Le Kganya.