Even in Death

Femi looked at the wailers seeing….yet not seeing. She had cried so much she was numb. She was seated betwist her elder sister and mother. She wondered how she would have coped….without them. They were her bulwark.

The wailers were apparently tireless. As one set left another came in to continue the wailing. Idly she wondered if her late husband could see or hear them. She wondered at the state of their vocal chords and lungs…at this stage. Her eyes roamed the sitting room that had turned to the wailing room. Just a few days ago there was so much sunshine and happiness here. Her husband and best friend was still alive, vitality his middle name. She sighed and her mother looked at her with utmost concern. She tried to give her a reassuring look.

The sitting room looked so dirty now. In her depression she had ordered the two maids to leave her house. Normally guests were not allowed in with their footwear, but now, no one could be bothered with those rules. What was the essence of cleanliness when her husband was gone?

Soon it was night time and the wailers left one after the other. She suddenly felt very dirty. She hadn’t a bath since the day Wale died which was four days afore. Her mother helped her into the bath where she lay for hours soaking in the bubbles of soap. She stared at her face in the mirror across the bath with  unseeing eyes. Eventually she got out of the bath and scrutinized her body in the full length mirror. Wale had had a thing for mirrors, they had mirrors almost everywhere in the house. She started at her flat unlined tummy. She patted her womb that had never carried a child, she caressed her breasts, that had never suckled one as her face crumpled in tears and she started wailing. Her mother who was in the adjacent room hurried in and held her in her arms as she led her to the four poster bed in the room ensuite. 

Her mother still held her in her arms on the bed as she finally quietened down. 

‘Do you need me to stay, Femi?’

Femi shook her head in the negative. She needed to be alone with her thoughts..at least for a while. Her mother looked at her doubtfully even as she left reluctantly.

Femi switched on the bedside lamp. She stared long and hard at the shadows. Could Wale somehow hear her speak? Hear her thoughts? There was a time they completed sentences for each other. She smiled as she remembered those times. So much synergy…just before the quarrel. No….she wouldn’t….musn’t think about the quarrel and what had led to it. She must dwell only upon happy memories now, so her pastor had counselled her.

She hoped she hadn’t given anything away, facially or verbally. One cannot be too careful these days. Not with the many people watching and listening.

She switched off the bedside lamp with trembling fingers as she settled under the duvet for a well earned rest. Alas, sleep appeared to be very elusive. She tossed and turned for hours, seeking rest that didn’t appear to be coming. Her heart was heavy, her head almost bursting with the flood gate of memories.

Had Macbeth murdered sleep?

To be continued…..