**“This morning, my husband told me to sell these bananas and then take my maternity leave—there’s only one month left until our baby is born. He promised he would come home early, take me to my prenatal check-up, and that our whole family would be ready to welcome our little angel.

And yet… my God, how cruel this is! He was at work when he got a call from a neighbor:

— ‘Brother, come quickly! Your wife… your wife was hit by a truck at the market.’

He dropped everything and ran like a madman through the streets. With every step, he felt his heart was about to burst, and in his mind, my words kept echoing: ‘Just sell this last load, and then come home to take care of me and our baby.’

When he arrived… there was a bloody scene in the street. Bananas scattered everywhere, the bicycle he used to carry the goods broken in two. And me—the woman he loved most—lying motionless in the middle of a crowd of anxious people.

He screamed like a man possessed, fell to his knees, and pulled me into his arms, trembling in despair:

— ‘Darling, open your eyes. Just one more month and our baby will be born. How could you leave me like this?’

They carried my body away, but he stayed behind, weeping like a child. I was gone, leaving in my womb the tiny drop of our blood—our child—without even the chance to call us “Mom and Dad.”

It is unbearably sad… For so many years, we had saved every dollar, sacrificing everything in the hope of welcoming our child into a little home of our own. But cruel fate tore me away, stealing the warmth of a mother before it could even be felt.

How will he go on living now? How will our child grow without parents? How can one ever escape the sorrow that began before the baby even came into this world?

In his torment, he looked to the sky and cried out:

— ‘Oh my God, why is this so unfair? How could you steal away my beloved wife when she was only a month away from becoming a mother?’

Rest in peace, my love… He has promised that, no matter how hard it may be, he will raise our children and help them grow strong. ‘This pain,’ he whispered, ‘I will carry it with me for the rest of my life…’”**