A True Love

By Hogande Kiafuli

Any moment from now, she will die. There’s no doubt about it. Death was already hovering around her, slowly creeping in like the approaching dusk. There was a gloomy ambiance all around her, and the air reeked of death. Today or tomorrow, any moment, she would breathe her last. The beat of her heart will slowly tempo to a halt, and she would cease to exist.

   Her stature heralded impending death. Her bones gained prominence amidst the wasting muscles and fat tissues. Her strength faded so badly that even her once so soft and curly hair, failed to stand firm on her rather thin scalp. The ears looked as if they were withered by the sun, and the eyes sunk deep into the skull. As if afraid to look into the face of death, the eyeballs turned upwards, such that only the white sclera was visible. Her mouth and tongue were flaked with white stuff that easily bled when tried to be removed. Water could not be sipped, and food cannot be chewed because the flakes were very painful. She can talk no more, for her voice was suppressed by the terrible infection.

   The bones of her limbs were clearly visible. Her arm bones were so visible that they looked like baseball bats stuck in the sides of her chest. The ribs stood out distinctly from the rib cage, as she struggled to breathe. Her abdomen looked as though it had been emptied of its contents. Urine flowed out unrestrained, as she failed to muster up strength to contain them. The odour of urine, and faeces, were all around her.

   As if spelled by the smell, no relative visited her. That terrible day, which turned out to be her last, was the one day that she needed her family the most, particularly her mother. But the mother, who happened to be a health worker, froze her account of tender-loving-care. The one male in the world that she calls Daddy, withheld his loving presence at her dying moment. Her brothers and sisters refused to show that she was their little sister, once so loved and cherished. As her moments ticked away, the memory of her family faded, and she brushed aside all remaining hope of seeing them again.

   Nevertheless, a man sat on the bed by her side. He was the love of her life. Tears freely flowed down his cheeks, as he watched her sick body. He wished he could look into her eyes once more, and see the colour and radiance of life in it. He wished her lips could part again into a smile that once sent chills up his spine. He desired to hear her sweet voice again, which was once and is always like music in his ears. He longed to hold her hand once more, and enjoy their walk along the beach. But he knew that his precious moments with her were soon to be remembered as history.

   He took her right hand into both his hands, and gently squeezed them. Then he took her palm up to his cheeks, and slowly moved it over to his lips. He kissed her palm, as more tears poured down his cheeks. He couldn’t help but wept into her palms.

   He tenderly lowered her hand to her side, and reached for her face. Smoothly he cupped her face in his hand, and affectionately caressed her cheeks and jaw with his hands. His heart ached as though it was dropped in a pot of boiling water. His voice box seemed to have been iced up, and he was rendered speechless. All his words seemed to have turned into fresh tears, streaming down his cheeks and onto his shirt. His mind went blank, as if switched off by remote control. He just didn’t know what to think.

   He learned forward and gently kissed her forehead. “I’ll always love you,” he managed to sob the words out, “and I’ll be here right by your side. In good and bad times, for better or for worse, I’ll be right here with the love that I’ve always had for you. You going to be OK, darling, you gonna be fine.”

   I was stunned. For almost two minutes, I stood there speechless, and motionless. I had gone there to put up an intravenous cannula so we can infuse her with some supportive fluids. Instead, I found myself being infused with inspiration and… sympathy…or maybe something between inspiration and sympathy. It’s probably next door to pity, or sister to compassion. I just cannot describe, but I felt it!

   What a love!

   As I stood watching, I noticed that he was now looking at me, with tears still pouring from his eyes. I realised too that my eyes were wet, but before I could turn around to wipe them, a single drop of tears escaped my right eye and rolled down my cheek.

   “I’m sorry but, the love you have for your wife is a true love, and really inspired me,” I said.

   “She is my wife, and I will love her till death. I understand that she won’t make it, but I want to treasure every moment I can with her, while she is here with me.”

   “God gave her to you to love, and I can see that you truly love her,” I said. “God will reward you because you appropriately loved the wife He gave to you. You loved her just like how God loved sinners, and for that, I am truly inspired!”

   “Thank you, doctor,” He sobbed. “I thank God for you.”

   That night, the deadly HIVs celebrated, because they successfully ended another human life.   

True love flows only from a heart that knows the God of love!

By DeKiafuli