Like after all the nights before, I had woken up a several amount of times. Every hour, past twelve, until I finally woke at nine. This routine was my life. It was all it was, after Max.
Max, was my life for the twelve years we had. However, five of those twelve years, we spent in grief.
Diagnosed with lung cancer on our sixth mwaka anniversary. At first, we were a little worried--but we were certain that things would turn out fine. He promised me that they would. That, however, was not the case.
With radiation treatment, and surgeries here and there, the cancer came back every mwaka until our twelfth mwaka together.
On June 12th, 2005, he had been relieved of his pain, and was finally put at rest. Beforehand, he had accepted it. He had accepted that it was his turn, that it was his time, that he's done, everything he was supposed to. I didn't.
Every siku after that, was a nightmare. The empty space behind me in our bed, the empty chair at our dining table, and the empty feel on our living room couch. Everything had changed. But certainly, not for the better.
I was alone. We had no kids at the time. We planned to, before we had found out.
I shed, too many tears. They seeped through my mto almost every night, after sliding down my face, from the tip of my eyelashes, and down my cheek.
These tears were no comfort. They were cold, and heavy. Causing my eyes to redden, and my eyes to puff. And every morning, I would wake up, with tissues, scattered all over the floor.
After nearly a mwaka and a half--maybe even longer--I recall hearing a voice in my mind. His voice, in a dream.

"Love, can wewe hear me?"

And I remember, talking to him, as he held me close. Tears fell at his presence, despite the fact that it was a dream. I couldn't help it. Seeing his face--his beautiful sapphire eyes, his matted brown hair that he would always run his hands through, his smile that pulled him all together, inaonyesha his unbelievable brilliance. That was my Max. And I felt him. I heard him. I spoke to him.

"Love, wewe shouldn't be crying anymore."
"I can't help it."
"Yes wewe can."
"I've just--missed you."
"And that's okay."
"It hurts Max."
"I know it does. But wewe shouldn't be stopping your life, just because I'm not there."
"What's this worth if you're not here?"
"Don't wewe see sweetie? wewe are still alive because wewe are meant to keep living your life."
"And wewe weren't? We're only in our thirties. wewe shouldn't have died so young."
"It's cruel isn't it?"
"Most definitely."
"Well, it's out of our control love. There are plenty of things we can't control. We don't decide when we get to die. We don't decide when we want to be born. But we do have control over one important thing, that being, how we live our life. And I came to you, because for the past mwaka and a half, wewe haven't been living your life. You've put it on hold, because I'm not there to live it with you."
"Is that, so wrong?"
"Define what wewe mean kwa wrong. It's hard, I know. But wewe have to songesha on with your life. Even if I'm not in it anymore."

I was crying bitterly. I knew this--I just couldn't accept it. Not yet at least.

"I can't watch wewe live your life like this. wewe need to go out into the world. Live your life, instead of wasting it away at home. It's okay to miss me. It's even okay to cry about it. But not every second, of every minute, of every hour, of every day."

And before I could say anymore, he disappeared, before my very eyes.

Now, were back to where we started. A few months after this dream, I woke up, on a Sunday, and took it all in.
At exactly nine o'clock, I had got out of bed, and made my way into our jikoni for cereal--what we both used to have, every morning. I walked around the house, and looked outside. Beautiful. Clear vast skies, and a sun ascending high, taking all the light with it. It was a perfect day. A perfect siku to spend outside--out kwa the beach.
Twelve years. Twelve years Max and I spent along the pwani in Everly. Pale, sandy beaches, with cerulean waters thrashing against the shore. We spent, countless nights, running across the rising tide, watching the sun descend to what seemed underneath the water, as the colors above faded.
I did that on that Sunday. I sat flat on the sand, and watched the sun set before me. And I heard Max in my mind.

"Love, promise me something. Promise me, that wewe will find another someone, and upendo that someone like wewe did me. Have the children that we never did. Have them run around in the nyumbani that we bought together. Have them play on the beach, pwani that we spent our life on together. Promise me, that you'll make yourself happy."

And as the last sliver of the sun descended, I smiled and looked towards the gracious skies and replied,

"I promise, love."

Twelve years later

Every now and then, I still think of Max. I think of my dream, and that Sunday at the beach. I reminisce on old memories, and look at old photos.
But like he alisema himself, I had to songesha on.
And now, twelve years later after that dream, I've kept my promise.
I am now married to Lucas Daniels. We've been married for eleven years, with three beautiful children.
The eldest, our first girl, Gillian.
The middle child, our sekunde girl, Heidi.
And the youngest, our first boy, Max.