The Night My Girlfriend Died in My House; Lesson Learnt
This happened about a decade ago, but the memories remain vivid. Though I haven’t shared this story publicly before, I feel compelled to now, hoping others might learn from my experience. I’ll keep it concise.
Back in university, I was living with my girlfriend. One night, after watching a football match, I returned to my dormitory late. When I opened my door, I found her on the floor, unmoving with her eyes wide open. I checked her pulse, but there was nothing. Her teeth and fists were clenched tightly. I was paralyzed with fear and didn’t know what to do. I quickly called other residents of the dorm for help, and soon a crowd gathered in my room and outside the door.
None of us could determine what had happened. We considered taking her to a hospital, but the school clinic was closed, and the nearest hospitals were far away in a remote area. Despite various attempts at first aid, there was no sign of life after hours of effort.
The situation became desperate, and people began leaving the dorm in fear, with only one person—a student pastor—staying behind with me. He prayed fervently but saw no change. By around 4 a.m., he told me he had done all he could and left me alone with my thoughts.
I was overwhelmed, unable to cry or think clearly. I feared wrongful accusations and potential legal consequences, worried about my parents’ sacrifice and the stigma of cohabiting. I considered fleeing but realized it would only make me look guilty and be on the run indefinitely.
Desperate and unsure of whom to turn to, I started scrolling through my phone contacts and decided to call a pastor who had given me his number long ago. To my surprise, he answered immediately, as if he had been expecting my call. He told me he had been praying for me without knowing the specifics and reassured me that everything would be alright.
He instructed me to place a sachet of water under the phone so he could pray over it. Following his directions, I poured some of the water into my girlfriend’s mouth and sprinkled the rest over her body. After the call, which ended around 6 a.m., I noticed slight movements from her—her hand twitched, her legs shifted, and soon she opened her eyes and sat up.
In disbelief, I rushed to get the student pastor, who came to witness what he described as a miracle. We both praised God, and I made her some tea before she showered.
By 7 a.m., none of the other dorm residents had returned. I saw them gathered outside, whispering about the incident. When I brought my girlfriend outside, they were stunned into silence by her unexpected recovery.
This experience taught me valuable lessons. Cohabiting without marriage carries significant risks, and in times of crisis, you may find yourself alone as people scatter. We continued our relationship, but I moved her to a separate apartment and ceased having her stay with me. We eventually parted ways after I graduated.
