Denial is a pill I pop daily in a bid to deal with reality. Time, they say, heals; but, I've come to doubt the efficacy of that line of thought. With each day that passes, I die a little more inside. I've considered giving up severally, but, the thought of my three kids all alone with no one to love them has kept me going. They are the best kids any mother could ever wish for, and, I'm glad they're mine.

I stood at the veranda watching them play. My babies have come a long way. Life has not been fair to them. They seemed happy though. How I longed for the innocence of childhood; the ability to compartmentalize and just live in the moment. Nature hadn't been that kind to me. I could still recall the incident that robbed me of my joy.

David, that was my husband's name, worked as a driver in a transport company plying the Lagos-Abuja route. Due to the nature of his job he was never at home; but, whenever he was around, he always made it up to me and the kids. He had been given two weeks leave in line with the company's policy and had spent it entirely with the family.

I can still see his smile whenever the children amazed him and his laughter when he played catch with them. He was their hero. The love in his eyes whenever he looked at me was fresh in my memory. After ten years together, he still treated me as though I was a day old bride and I basked in his love. Within a short while two weeks was over and he had to resume at work.

The morning of his return he called the kids, played with them one last time and bid them farewell. My mind was troubled over his going and I shared it with him. He shrugged it off as my worries of being left with the kids; promised to return and kissed me goodbye. I watched him walk towards his bus fighting the urge to run after him and stop him from leaving. He turned one last time, blew me a kiss, got in the bus and drove off.

An hour later, a knock at the door jarred me from my contemplations. Three strange men wearing solemn faces greeted me upon opening the door. They introduced themselves, confirmed my identity and refused to answer my questions as to their presence until I was seated. The tallest of the three then broke the news to me.

David was gone. He had met with an accident and had died on the spot before help could come. I felt numb. I couldn't believe it. I looked to their faces for signs of laughter and saw none. Slowly I could feel pain seeping in. I could feel my heart dying. Just then, Daniel, the youngest of my children came in crying for his father. I couldn't contain myself. I burst out in tears clutching my baby to myself and feeling my heart break a little more with every escaping sob.

It's been one year since my heart stopped beating. I still stand by the door hoping I'll see David driving up the street even though I know it's a futile hope. The kids ask after their father and I am at a loss of what to tell them. I hope that one day I'll be able to let go. In the meantime, I'll try my best to be there for my kids as they're all I've got now.