Death returns my husband

I typed out several messages, but erased them when they did not feel appropriate to me. I just could not figure out the right response. In the end I stayed quiet for the rest of the day. I sent one of the ones I had felt was far from adequate.

"I cannot begin to say how sorry I am, Daudi. May God comfort you." I looked long and hard at those words before I hit 'send'. Even after that I looked at them trying to imagine what Daudi will feel about them. I finally gave up, on reminding myself that despite his reply I will still not know.

Many days later, I started to feel a lightening of my spirit, a lifting of the darkness that had enveloped me since Jack had been dispatched by a rogue matatu. The passing of years had not softened the pain. That emotion recalled that which tore through my being when Daudi had been taken away from me in the village. But now I felt like one who had taken medicine for an ache, a pain. It begins to ebb, and relief to beckon from afar.

I did not face the fact that Beatrice's death was responsible for that amelioration of my spirit. I failed to recognize that I was relieved she was no longer on the scene. When Daudi, some weeks after sharing the news offered to come, I was that much weaker to protest. He asked for directions and I gave him them readily.

Gentle reader, why bother you with details?

He came.

He took Grace and I home.