Poem by our niece Kamogelo Mothupi

Untitled: When you don't know what to feel

This is a pic from May 2017. After a weekend together. He was about to go back to Rustenberg where he had been working on week days. The weeks were long and lonely without him. And so the goodbyes where somber. 

I still use words like "ours" "us" and "we". In the last weeks of your life, we were sending each other photographs of property we wanted to buy. Our whatsapp conversations would send us deep into the fantasy we both knew we could achieve. It was never unrealistic with us.

It's difficult to reboot my system and suddenly become one, when you were my whole life. My grief and pain will probably exhaust many people who will hear me still talk about you years from now.

But that's the thing about you and me, we were the only people that experienced the depth of each other's love. So it's natural that I'd be the only one that feels this deep pain and sense of loss because of your death.

Every time you'd tell about a near-death experience you had on the road, I'd say, "I'll die if anything happens to you". You'd joke about how I would be shopping all week from cashing in on all those life insurances. We joked and laughed about it. But we were in each other's arms and still made plans together. We thought we were being human and making ourselves conscious that death is a reality and that would be exactly where we would end up.

Today I am torn apart. I'm a mess because I still want "us" "we" and everything that's "ours". But where will I find them? In memories? Apparently that's what I have to settle for. This is not the "till death do us apart" we had in mind. I didn't accept it. I'm still battling with making peace with this new dark path. I love you so much. 

A Missed Call I can't reurn

One of our daily video calls.
June 2017

 You'd swear we don't live in the same house. Let alone sleep in the same bed. The "I have arrived safely at work" video calls were always a good kick start to our day. We were like a couple that just met. You made me feel so good and special. I usually captured our video calls to send you still pics just to compliment you on how handsome you are. Sometimes to tease you on how you need to shave. There were even times when I thought your scruffy look turned me on. You entertained all my drama. You laughed and smiled every time when I revealed my lust for you. Suddenly a ping-pong match of how much we love each would start. It would get out of hand for me because I work in an open plan office. People would hear me telling you what I'd do to you when I come home.
I love and miss you. It's still early days and still very much unbelievable that I'll never hear your voice again. Every time I got your missed call on my phone I'd rush and call you back. All I got was your sweet voice stopping me from apologising for not being able to take your call. This is far worse than a missed call. Nothing I can do about missing you except holding on to memories. I love you.

The Condolences Book

03 June 2017. On our way to what became our last
weekend getaway

Baby, I finally got a chance to go through the condolences book. LOL! The guy you were flirting with on Facebook in 2012 also wrote a message. He can't spell. I giggled reading his message to you, not even to me or the family. He must hate me for threatening to cut both of you back then. I am actually having a good chuckle writing about this now. I bragged on Facebook about how I could mourn and post our pictures together openly on my timeline, but your side dishes, if you had any, couldn't even tell people why they were crying. But the highlight of the condolences book was your facebook fling that can't spell. He's cute though. Hahaha. Oh baby. 

I can see your disapproving face. I remember it from when I started going on and on about my insecurities. Mostly in a humorous tone. You were a handsome man and I was a jealous man. And you loved it. You were the same and I have also seen you throw tantrums when I gave you my fair share of being a boy. For some odd reason, those moments became the glue that kept us together. Yes, it got ugly but after a while it was in the archives and became a big joke. 

The condolences book also made me realise that we watched each other grow. The magnificent friends we made over the years were the key reminder to that fact. They are so broken my love. Each and every one of them represent different times of our union. Those times come with wonderful memories that will be cherished forever. Our friends at eNCA have not stopped going on about how you were at all the breaking news stories. They wrote about how you were always my Skype Live camera man. Hahaha, they don't know how we fought about your weird camera shots. We would not speak to each other on our way home from a story. You'd even swear not to help me ever again. But when a story broke, you'd be setting up the camera and warning me not to undermine your work. So many great memories were shared in the condolences book. Reminder after reminder of what a beautiful person you were. Karyn Maughan even shaved her hair as a sign of mourning. Slindile insists you are always with us. I believe her. Thabo Selepe and your crew still haven't removed you from the whatsapp group. We cry every day for you my love. 

Lesley's Requiem Mass

One of the early things Lesley and I found out about each other is the strong Christian protestant nurture from our families. We both grew up Lutheran and at some point in our lives, we were active members of the church. The church as an institution was a safe haven for Black young men and women from predominantly poor communities. We survived Aids, drugs and possibly prison. It is the fate of many of our peers.

When we decided to get married, we could not approach the church because it had alienated homosexuality. Even the priests who knew us, used church protocol to decline blessing our union. We ended up having a non-denominational union and an African traditional ritual to seal what would be nine years of our life together. But that's also where our gripe with the church which carried us throughout our separate childhood began. Lesley walked away very easily from situations that brought him grief or made him sad. I am quite the opposite. I challenged my father, a church elder and my siblings who are staunch members of the church. Going to church fit nicely with their heterosexual life. It didn't stop there, every time the parish pastor asked why I won't help with youth activities, I'd raise this issue and he'd retreat behind church bureaucracy. 

I want to get to the point why I asked Reverend Siza Lugojolo and Vicar (Soon to be ordained priest) Itumeleng Kgapole to give Lesley a Mass fit for a King. But I need to explain the connection and the struggles of committed same-sex couples. They are victimised by institutions like the church who speak in a forked-tongue when it comes to loving your "fellow man" unconditionally. The church in Black communities is hailed as one of the instruments that fought apartheid. But the church failed to remain relevant in post-apartheid South Africa. It didn't take advantage of the fact that it had the loyalty of South Africans who were divided by traditions and beliefs to normalise homosexuality. But I make excuses for the church because in post-1994 South Africa, there were too many socio-political differences and homosexuality was at the bottom of the list despite great efforts by the likes of the late Simon Nkoli and the great Bev Ditsie. 

Pic taken on our 2011 holiday in KwaZulu-Natal

Now back, to why Lesley's funeral was officiated by a priest who wore a white Alb and a Stole in the colours that resembled the gay flag. His coffin draped with a purple pall, a brilliant sermon that comforted me as the husband of the deceased man and the sharing of holy communion. A colleague of mine even joked that the last time she attended a funeral like that, was when Nelson Mandela died. It's an exaggeration, but it was undoubtedly a moving service. 

Lesley had been through so much throughout his childhood and one day in 2012, while we were preparing Sunday lunch for the family, I asked him how he kept on being resilient when life was hard. He gave me an answer that still makes me emotional up to this day. He told me he was about 12 years old when he had to be a parent to his younger sister, while his mom had gone to look for work. No adults. He told me he used to sing or hum a 12-verse Lutheran hymn "Tata Mong Wa Ka" through most of his hardships. Before he told me this, we'd harmonise and sing it together at home. It was during happy times or when he's doing house chores. I'd join in. But I did not know the story behind it. I was amazed that he memorised all the words. 

We made a pact that we'd die in a foreign country, cremate each other and share the ashes with family. I chose to die first because I am older than him. We argued about this, but he agreed. When his sudden death changed our plans, I saw it fit to take him home in the way that helped him cross the river of poverty and pure disadvantage because of where he was born and who he was. But he still didn't want anyone's pity. My friends and colleagues heard me all the time when I said I married rich. Flaws and all, I married rich, because in Lesley I had everything. And so we had to give him a royal send-off. 

Not even death will extinguish my love for this man.  

I love you baby.

Mama misses you

Sun City, September 2016

Hey babe,
I'm having a lot of 'firsts' without you. They are a bit easy to deal with because I am surrounded by so much love. Today I managed to have dinner with Mama and Papa. I stopped locking myself in our bedroom and talking out loud hoping you hear me. Sometimes I read poems and comforting words friends are still sending. But today I was in the main house and ate a proper meal.
It was emotional because we tried not to speak about the void and the space you left. I deliberately sat where you'd sit to make it easier for the pensioners. Mama broke down when saying grace. She misses you.
There are lit candles everywhere in the house just for you. You are loved so much. I don't have th energy to even tell you about my day because I am emotional. I love you.

9 years summed up in 1 hour

Picture taken on 1 January 2012
Bundu Inn

Hey baby,
You'd be happy to know that I survived more than an hour of therapy. I sat through the whole thing. If you had Whatsapp wherever you are you'd send a meme with a shocked NomaRussia. Hahaha. I sat through the whole thing my love.
You never stopped reminding me how I once stormed out of a session with a psychologist. A psychologist you chose without 'googling'. Yes, we were desperate and in a bit of trouble. But she asked us if we were really gay! I mean WTF!? We laughed about it after giving her a piece of my mind.
Our drive back home was actually the therapy we needed. We made it up to each other.
But today I spoke about you. Your forgiving heart, your love and generosity. I spoke about our dark days too and how swimming against a high tide trouble with you was so easy. I summed up nine years of knowing you in just over an hour. I cried when I kept on referring to you in past tense. But I pulled through because I needed to tell our story.
I also told her how I'm battling to deal with my own grief because there are many other people around me that loved you. They too need a shoulder to cry on. It's just a roller coaster.
I told her I'd preserve the good and not neglect the bad, but take pride in how we used that to reaffirm the foundation. Our love story ended on a beautiful note love. I was proud to even talk about how we fought and disagreed like people who loved each other. No words to pierce the heart. We wanted to be together. We did all the human things to cope with our stress. But we always got back on the journey of love. It's not easy without you. But I'm surrounded by so much love. I love and miss you my baby. Hope you're proud of me cause I sat through a whole therapy session without losing it. Lol.

Crazy moments...

7 December 2016. It was Ambassador Patrick Gaspard's farewell party. This is the day you found out white isn't for you. Hahaha. Yes there was some cleaning up to do when we got home. Oh my sweet baby. 

Sunday 11 June 2017. Lunch with Joanne and Neil's family. I remember how wenton and on about how you love Jo. Jo and Neil had heard so much about you and they wanted to meet this man who makes me so happy. They're all heartbroken. You are missed gorgeous one.

My only regret

The one thing I'm battling with while you're gone is how we constantly continued to love each other without talking much about issues that often threatened to derail us. We rushed to assuring each other of the love and commitment. I guess that's all we wanted to know. Yes, we accepted the weaknesses, the temptation and all the politics between two people who want to be together. I wish we spoke more about why we got into those potholes. But I suspect you were going to shut me up with a kiss and tell me to stop over thinking everything. You always said that to me when I questioned you or when I wanted to explore our issues. You forced me to focus my energy on making us great. But I wish I had the power to stop you and talk it all out. I'm not sure what change it would bring. I don't know if I'd feel better. It's just one thing I wish I was able to make you do.

I hold on to your last week on earth. You made everything extra special. You refused to entertain my drama. You made me smile as usual.

The day you died. I cry every time when I think about our 4am pillow talk and toast to "us" drinking left overs from a previous night. You wouldn't let me get out of bed. Made me breakfast in bed, washed the cars and kept checking up on me. I want to hold on to that instead of asking questions that will only make my grief even more difficult.
I love you so much. I'm sorry to burden you with my curious mind. You've left everything behind and you are at a better place. Thank you for coming through my dreams. Thank you for loving me beyond this life.

Winter nights are even more colder

Every time I come across this picture I giggle and think of the abuse we suffered from our friends for taking Bruno and Rihanna on a mini holiday. What makes me even burst out laughing is how you entertained the abuse with angry responses. Sometimes I had to calm you down and ask you to ignore them. You really got worked up. It was just a pleasure to watch you being daddy to our two beautiful dogs. We argued about what's good for them and what's not. Constantly showing each 'new research' from Google. I'd concede most of the time because you were more passionate about this than I was.
Last year we were broken when Rihanna died from poisoning. When she got ill, you took her to the vet and called me to come home. She got worse overnight, but she died in your arms while I was driving. You were so brave throughout that moment. You held me and we cried together. We were so sad. But we kept on trying to cheer each other up. Our friends saw our pain and they showed us compassion. We lived and continued to love. Not so long ago you and I spoke about a year since Rihanna's passing. It was still a sensitive topic. We moved on and spoke about other things. There was still sadness, but I won't forget how you'd bully me into a good mood. I was annoyed when you'd tickle me unexpectedly and became playful. I don't know how many of my books you damaged doing this. Cause I'd be reading when you storm in and demand attention. I'd give anything to have those moments again.
I'm still not back at work. Stuck in our bed missing your warmth. The winter night are so much more cold without you. Missing that beautiful body of yours. I miss watching you dress up for work. Sometimes I'd make you change into a better outfit. I am home thinking about all of that. I hope you can help have strength to go back to a new routine without you here in the physical world. Going back to work is going to be another emotional episode because that's where I found out 6you're gone. I so wanted to die with you that day. If you come take me now, I'd come. I miss you and haven't figured out what I am going to do without you. I love you.

The afternoon with you

I always said to you that I'd die if anything happened to you. I really do feel like dying especially today. I have been looking back to the two weeks since you left. And I can say I have a formula for how I survive each day. I just get by, but most of the time is spent thinking how I am going to live without you. One moment I am all smiles telling your sisters about you and how you annoyed me. The next moment I'm alone in our bed unable to grasp that you are really gone and not coming back. I'd give anything now for those moments you annoyed me. Our fights for the TV remote. And all the dirty laundry II really don't want to publish here. I kiss all those things now. We fought and disagreed like people who love each other. That's why I can say I miss you and those moments. "When I said "I'm done with you" in anger you'd trivialize my anger and ask where I'd go. And threatened to follow me.
Today I am finding it so hard to believe that I spent the afternoon at your grave site. I know you're not here and only your remains are left here. But I carry you everywhere I go. I might be delusional because I miss you, but I felt your presenve last night. A comforting presence. I love you so much and I need you back baby.

One of my firsts without you

Sunday mornings were a ritual for us my love. In fact, it was one of the traditions that brought us closer over the years. Cooking for the family or "churchgoers" as we called them. I looked forward to Sunday mornings because that's when I had you all to myself. Debrief of the Saturday night. Cuddling and debating what time we should get out of bed. 

When we eventually got out of bed, it was straight to the kitchen. A can of beer or a glass of whatever was leftover from the weekend. We'd share it. Whatever it was, we'd have it together. This morning I broke down and cried when I braved the loneliness and headed for the kitchen. I had never felt so alone. I just broke down and cried. My cry pierced through the neighbour's wall and they came to cry with me. Cause they too knew our Sunday ritual in our aprons. We cried together with the neighbours this morning. For you my baby. They will never hear that genuine sweet voice greeting them and asking how they are. The small talk and your infectious laugh. They will miss that every day.
You and I told each other how much we adore one another. It was not always in words but through things we did together. I relied on you and was always guaranteed peace of mind when you were around and I know you felt the same way. I'm writing this note sitting in the kitchen recovering from a good cry and still in shock that I will never kiss those lips as a reward for my "good cooking". And sometimes just because you felt like just holding me and kissing me on my forehead. I always cherish those moments.
Our last cooking session is hardly a month ago. It's devastating to be here without you Lesley. Come back.

This was our last weekend getaway, 3 June 2017. Just over a month before you left baby.

Malom Les, you are missed

December 2016 at home celebrating our brother-in-law's birthday. Les was always the adult among children. Lots of love and laughter whenever he was around. Theresho leaning on uncle still cries today when we speak of his Malom Les. We are all so heartbroken.

This time last week

Tattoo in memory of my late husband
Lesley "Lolo" Sekoto by Inksane Tattoos.

I was sitting with a congregation of family, friends and colleagues. They were there to give you your perfect send-off. Words of comfort and beautiful memories of you shared. I broke down every now and then. I giggled here and there. It was such a roller coaster baby.

The whole of last week, we were building up to the moment when your body was lowered to the ground. I wailed and screamed your name. The same way I did when I got the news that you were killed in an accident. Lesley. My love. You left a huge gap in our lives.

The one thing we both agreed upon was not to dwell on things we could not change. We moved easily from our difficult past. We worked on great memories every single day. Whether it was through text messages, pillow talk or phone call conversation. But your death is something I never imagined. My whole system is struggling to process it. I almost rush myself to live with it, because I recognise that we made a pact not to dwell on things we can't change.

I also do not want to be an emotional burden to our friends. Our families are broken and hurt. Your mother consoles herself by speaking to me on the phone. Every chance we get. Calls me "Boy-boy" like she did with you. I hold back tears during our chats.

Baby, you left so soon and so sudden. This time last week, our hearts were bleeding. Life presented a new chapter to us without you. We made our first step into the new normal. It was and still painful and scary. Our only consolation is that we saw and felt the love you had for us. Even in your last hours. You emphasised them like you knew you were about to leave us forever.

I found myself engraving the impact you had in my life on my body. You are certainly always in my heart and on my mind. When I die, my body will fade and be destroyed. But I have hope our spirit will become one again in the after life.
Sthandwa sam, ndi danile. Buya!

And he had moves for days!

When I met Lesley, I had already accepted a calling to be a Sangoma. Over the years he just embraced the whole thing. Every time we are invited for a ceremony he was the dancing guru. He loved it.

Joy ride...

Being shuttled to one of our many nights at the opera.

My note to you...back in 2010

My Shrine

Last night I actually saw you in my dreams. We were debating and arguing about you not coming back. You insisted on being where you are for my sake. I cried so much when you disappeared and didn't reply to any of my questions any more. I woke up in the middle of the night with a wet pillow. Your side of the bed occupied by Bruno. I can tell he misses you too. I just cried.


I don't have any unanswered questions about you and me. I knew exactly where we were when you left this world. It's your absence that brews anger in my heart. Your unexplained departure just frustrates every plan we had. I relied on you so much. I relied on your love and warmth every night.


Your presence is all around us, but not in the way we would like. I found myself going to the cemetery every day. It's still not sinking in that you're no more. Every time when I'm kneeling on your tomb crying, I feel like you'd just tap me on my shoulder and ask me what's wrong.


I never thought or imagined myself your grave would be a shrine I go to just to be closer to you. There were no loose ends to tie before you left. You kissed and told me you loved me. At some point you were on the other end of the phone calling me all sorts of sweet names and telling me how you were and what you got up to. You were so happy. That makes me long for you even more.


It had been a week since one whole day of a lover's quarrel. I kept your long email apologising even when I was the one who should say sorry. The one lesson I took from that message was when you asked that we shouldn't be angry with each other for too long. I didn't even read on and I just called you to say how much you mean to me. Little did I know the next week would be so perfect and also your last. Oh my baby. I go to a sad place just to be close to you. I don't know why I choose that place over the great memories. I miss you. I wish you you'd come back and take this pain away.

The river of grief and how to keep being by Jini Maxwell

When I think about grief, words don’t really come to mind. What I do get is the visceral feeling of being too deep underwater. When I think of grief, I imagine the sudden stab of fear that accompanies a realisation that you’ve dived deeper than you first thought: your trapped breath like a weight in your chest, the glimmer of oxygen perpetually too many arm lengths away.

Grief is more than a feeling. It’s really an environment, a new condition to your life that you have to meet with your whole self. No amount of swimming against the current, or scrambling up the banks, will make it easier to navigate. Most importantly, it is not a puzzle you can think your way out of. It’s something more bodily than that, like the mammalian diving instinct.

At first contact with water, an infant’s heart rate slows, oxygen moves more slowly, and the glottis spontaneously blocks access to the lungs, all before the conscious mind can react at all. Living with grief is an animal experience, and surviving it requires the action of a body that knows how to keep being when the mind couldn’t possibly go on. Your body knows how to keep you safe, not just before your conscious mind, but instead of it. You just have to be in it, and it has to be processed as a part of you.

The bad news is, no amount of time in rivers of grief will prepare you for a new one. The good news is, you didn’t drown then and you’re not drowning now. Your body is carrying you through the experience on instinct. Take a deep breath and listen to yourself from the toes up. Feelings are hard, inconvenient and unpredictable, but the less time you spend fighting your body’s messages, the more you can learn from them.

Survival is, in the end, a game of trust, and not of thought. You have to trust that you can survive your own emotions. You have to feel, even if it’s overwhelming. The most important thing to remember about the river of grief is you’re not surviving it wrong. It’s not taking too long. You’re not moving too quickly. The river you are in is just the river you are in, without moral resonance. Trust that you can cope with doing what you need.
It’s easier to think of grief as something of a redemption arc, starting with pain and ending with the well being you knew before. But mourning exists without narrative; it’s not something you can itemise in a eulogy. The river’s current will stick with you for longer than you expect, and you’ll emerge and re-emerge from the worst parts of it feeling as shocked by the ways you’ve stayed the same as you are by the way you’ve changed. Like a newborn in a swimming pool, trying to analyse your progress is only going to make the water feel heavier around you. Your body knows what it’s doing.

In the moments that you feel yourself entirely submerged, trust that your heart rate may slow, your throat may close and the pressure may build, but your body knows how to navigate this space, even if your mind does not. Every fibre of you is already working slowly and carefully to navigate this new emotional landscape, if you let it. That’s how survival happens—by gentle instinct, not by achievement or analysis. Take the time to be in your body, listen to every soft and hurting part of yourself whenever you feel the urge: beat to beat, without scrutiny, until you can resurface.

However you’re going, you’re going okay

The madness that is us!

This morning I woke up and remembered how you actually encouraged the madness between us.

You knew my love for photographs and used it to cheer me up sometimes. You'd get me to do weird and funny poses. You laughed so hard at my craziness. And you'd join in and just lose yourself.

It was the beginning of our solid bond. We knew we could be vulnerable to each other. That was the gateway to being able to talk about anything and everything. Even the people we had a crush on. Hahahaha! It was uncomfortable but it got easier.
We spoke about love and the difficulty of being in a monogamous relationship. There were really awkward moments, but we knew how to swim against even the toughest tides, just so we could stay together. We had seen each other in different lights and shades. We still loved each other.
When love was almost peeled away by our "humanness" we knew we needed more than just love to stay together. We got more than love to sustain us. We kept it together baby. To a point where we even teased each other about our moments of weakness.
When I could not handle it, you always reminded me of our pact. Today my friends laugh at me when we talk about you and me. I don't know how many times I told them "I'm done!". Next thing they'd see us posting selfies from our bed happy together. Sometimes we'd just escape and go to a new environment to work things out. And they always worked out. Every time. We renewed our love not only through mistakes and weaknesses. Both our families and friends pushed us closer together. They knew we are the only people who understood the craziness in each other. They were often puzzled when we made private jokes about them in public. And we'd laugh like mad people. I miss you every day Lesley Sekoto. I miss you more now. I really wish you'd come back.

Things we couldn't agree on

One famously known fact was the different soccer teams we supported. We adapted so much so we could be a team in conquering all the missions we set our minds on. But Lesley remained a staunch Kaizer Chiefs supporter and I remained a loyal Mamelodi Sundowns fan.  We laughed and teased one another whenever any of our teams lost. But it was always followed by a drink, hug or even a kiss of comfort.

We were never really avid soccer lovers, but had mad love for these teams respectively. Mainly because of where we came from. It was one of those many things that we brought together to concoct the strong bond we had. 

I grew up with a nurtured love for classical music. Lucky for me he appreciated all sorts of music even though he'd make fun of me and my music. We were from completely different worlds. We still made it work. We were always learning how to embrace each other. Sometimes it was through mistakes and sometimes through confessions.  We never took for granted the many years we've known each other. We also didn't take advantage of those years.
Lesley was the one with the bigger heart. He maintained our tradition. The good night kiss and the good morning kiss. And he'd still come for the see you later kiss. Whether I was upset with him or not. And that's why I say I knew love because of this man.
Writing about him won't warm this bed or myself like he used to. But it will keep the love we had alive.
We both hated being away from each other. And so we punctuated each other's day with calls and text messages. We were telepathic and knew when to call. I will miss that. I will miss coming home to you baby.

Making sense of your departure

Baby,
I've been telling friends and some of your relatives that only one thing comes to mind when I try to make sense of your passing. You and I had the kind of love that people experience over a long, long time. Our time was short but we had already made memories that will last me till the day I cross over to you. You took the lead when it comes to matters of the heart. You were the one that made me realise that we have a "forever" arrangement. Every time when I made you angry, you made it a point to correct me. But what I appreciate most, is how you forgave me. You still had the same passion for our love even after cruel mistakes and inconsiderate choices I made. I tried to do the same, but I found myself still trying even after almost a decade of being together. You are so easy to love. And that's why I will keep loving you beyond this life on earth.

Yes, you were not perfect either. But through all the trials, one thing was clear.  Our love. It was effortless and none of us felt a burden. We had honest conversations about everything. We protected each of other from being hurt in any way. That's one thing we had in common among many other things.

We went through so much in a very short time. You went through way too much from a very young age. And so I use that as God's excuse when I try to comfort myself and others. I also think you agreed to go so soon because you knew I'd be able handle this life by myself. You believed in me and you always told me how amazing I am and how proud you were of me. I'd just smile and tell you to stop. But I always told you that I'm a productive human being because of you. I love you so much baby.

I won't lie. I wanted to secretly cross over with you when I could not figure out what I would do without you. But the overwhelming love and support from our friends did not give me a chance to device a plan. Since your passing, I no longer fear death. I even wanted to trade places with you, because I still think you were begining to grow wings. Wings to fly to the heights you always imagined. I know your dreams and I know the plans you had for us. That's why your death will always be a mystery. But I will do everything in my power to cope. Simply because I know you always wanted everyone to be happy. I will try. Oh my happy hubby. I miss you. I really wish you'd just come back.

First day of the rest of my life

The beautiful morning sun forced its way into our bedroom to console me. It's a consolation today because we enjoyed the warmth of the sun together, in each other's arms every morning. I'm still in deep shock that I will never wake up next to you. It's hard to accept that you will never walk through that door into my arms.
The reality is too painful to face and I have nowhere to escape because the memory of you is everywhere I go. Even in my hiding places.  Everywhere I go I'm reminded of your absence baby. All week when we made arrangements for the funeral, I thought it was the beginning of my healing. With the help of our good friends, I coordinated everything with so much strength. I just didn't expect to be overwhelmed by grief today. Our Happy place is now a very sad place. Yes, we made great memories. We loved each other to the end. But I have no idea how I will live without you. I want to continue loving you even though you are not here. We both never imagined life without one another.
I know this because even under difficult circumstances whether self-inflicted or not, we had each other and worked through all of them. We recognised each other's weaknesses but chose to embrace each other's strength and good character. I knew love because of you.
Lesley Sekoto. My beautiful husband. I am lost for words. Your friends and many other people who love you are still in disbelief. You brought so much light into our lives.
My last hours with you were filled with love and laughter. We made each other promises. But death came in between us. This is so painful. This whole thing makes me long for one more day to say I love you and kiss you. I miss you so much.
Come back.

My man's gone

My Dear Lesley,
I'm so happy that you and I lived our life together always reassuring each other of the love and commitment we have for another. It was something I learned from you. I didn't know how important it was until now. You adored me and you showed it every single day. Oh my love. My Cuddler-in-Chief. I remember days when I'd wake up from cramps from one side of my body because you would just cling on to me while asleep. On the days I complained you'd find time in your beautiful sleep to kiss me then turn and continue with your sleep. I acknowledged all of that because it was love I never knew.
Lesley Sekoto. The love of my life. We spoke about death. We argued about who should leave first. We laughed and never entertained it because we thought we still had some time. Your sudden death left me so hollow and empty. I am so devastated Les. The way we were so close, I feel like I'm going to see just appear to me. One last hug or just to take me to wherever you are. I don't want to be without you. Yes, I'm human and we love tangible things. I don't doubt that your spirit surrounds me because I feel it ever since you left this world. But I want to hear that piercing laugh, I want to see that beautiful smile. I also remember when we cried together. Oh my baby! My Les!
So many people are broken by your death. I don't want to sugar-coat death. We feel like this because you are not here to brighten our day with your compassion and love. People are talking about you. Great things about you. Everyone knows how happy you made me. I spoke about you to anyone who cared to listen. I looked forward to coming home to you every single day. But now look. What am I going to be without you. I'm nothing without you baby. I love you. I love you so much. You know I love you. So I don't know why you left me. Come back.