Devon couldn’t wait to marry the love of his life, Nadia. But just hours before the wedding, all their future hopes and dreams were snatched away…
Scrolling through Facebook, I noticed a new photo that stopped me in my tracks.
Wow, I thought. She’s absolutely gorgeous.
It was a selfie in a group I was in and belonged to a woman named Nadia.
Gazing at her glossy curls and pink lips, I had an instant crush.
A few days later, a message popped up on my screen.
Hey, it read.
It was from Nadia.
My heart fluttered as I tapped out a reply.
We began chatting and with each message, I began to fall for Nadia further.
Soon, we exchanged numbers and video called.
‘You’re even more beautiful than in your photos,’ I said.
She told me she was from London, but I lived overseas in Trinidad and Tobago.
With only a few hours’ time difference, we were able to chat all the time.
Soon we were speaking all day and night.
Nadia was kind and caring, and I learnt she had a young son.
Things quickly turned romantic, but with such a vast distance between us, I worried how things would work.
‘Have you ever been to Trinidad?’ I asked Nadia one day.
'We should definitely get married'
‘No,’ came her reply. ‘But I’d love to visit.’
Five months after we’d first started talking, my birthday was coming up.
‘I’m going to take a trip and come and see you to wish you many happy returns in person!’ she announced.
‘I can’t wait,’ I replied, filled with joy.
I could hardly contain my excitement as I got ready to welcome Nadia for two glorious weeks.
When I got to the airport, I waited nervously at arrivals, and then spotted her head of beautiful curls bouncing towards me.
‘Nadia,’ I beamed, pulling her in for an embrace. ‘I can’t believe you’re here.’
I knew for sure that I was in love with her.
I was looking after my sick uncle at the time, who was going through cancer.
It was tough but Nadia was by my side.
It also meant that she met a lot of my family during her stay.
Watching Nadia interact with my loved ones, I felt a wave of peace — she fitted in perfectly.
When the two weeks were up, I couldn’t bear the thought of Nadia leaving.
Saying goodbye was excruciating, but we knew we were both in it for the long haul.
A few months later, we were chatting over video call when I brought up marriage.
‘Is this your proposal?’ Nadia winked.
‘I guess it is,’ I said breezily, but my heart was beating fast.
‘We should definitely get married,’ she agreed.
Excited, we began planning our wedding and future together.
But then Covid hit and everywhere was plunged into lockdown.
Without a clear end in sight, things felt in limbo. And then later that year, tragedy struck and my dad passed away.
Even though Nadia couldn’t be there, she would call me every day to make sure that I was OK and that I had eaten.
'We're sorry, she's gone'
That was just how Nadia was, kind and thoughtful.
I felt more sure than ever that we were meant to be.
Although we’d never met in person, Nadia’s son and I became close and I would sing to them both over the phone.
He would answer the phone first to speak to me and started calling me Daddy.
It melted my heart.
I’d spent a lot of time alone as my brothers had their own families, so Nadia and her boy became the centre of my world.
Our plan was to tie the knot in Trinidad and then move to the UK.
I knew things were tough for her as a single parent and even though she had an amazing family to support her, she was constantly exhausted.
She was always making me and her son a priority, even if she had had a bad day, and I wanted to do the same for them.
Finally, the wedding was just days away and Nadia and her son flew over.
We’d planned a small ceremony but it would take five weeks to finalise everything.
Giving them both a big hug, I was filled with happiness.
‘Are you ready to be Mrs Gosine?’ I winked.
‘Oh yes, I am!’ she replied.
Nadia and I went to go and pick out our rings for the big day.
Soon, all our close friends flew over to see us.
The night before our wedding day, Nadia and I were up late talking after some pals had called to wish us the best ahead of the ceremony.
I noticed Nadia was struggling to sleep.
‘It’s probably just nerves before the big day,’ I said.
I cuddled her and she fell asleep, dreaming of our amazing wedding.
At around 2am, something made me wake up.
I reached over to kiss my fiancée on the cheek, but didn’t get any response. She was eerily still.
‘Nadia?’ I said, trying to shake her awake.
But there wasn’t even a flicker of movement.
Realising something was very wrong, I called for help.
Paramedics arrived on the scene and I quickly realised how grave the situation was.
I watched helplessly as they spent around 45 minutes trying to resuscitate Nadia.
Finally, one of them spoke to me.
‘We’re sorry, she’s gone,’ he said.
She was just 33.
My heart felt like it had been ripped out of my chest.
‘No!’ I cried, shaking my head. ‘She can’t be, we’re supposed to get married today.’
I couldn’t get over the suddenness of it all.
We were preparing to become man and wife.
How could all our hopes and dreams be taken from us so quickly?
In time, it was revealed Nadia had died of liver failure.
Her family and I knew she’d struggled with liver and kidney problems in the past.
But we were all under the impression that she had recovered.
As the days passed under a veil of grief, I was still in shock. I just hoped it was quick and she hadn’t suffered.
We should have been starting our lives together, but I found myself planning a ceremony to say a final farewell.
Nadia’s funeral was held in Trinidad. In a poignant twist, the pastor that was going to conduct our wedding would be presiding over my fiancée’s funeral service.
It was the hardest thing I’d ever had to go through.
Instead of sharing my wedding vows, I was reciting Nadia’s eulogy.
My voice wavered as I started to speak.
‘Nadia, you were an incredible mother, daughter, aunt and wife,’ I began. ‘I say “wife”, because deep in my heart, I believe we were married that day.’
I vowed to look out for her little boy and said I could still hear her laughter.
It still hadn’t sunk in that Nadia had been taken so suddenly and I was in shock for a long time.
Nadia was the most beautiful, hardworking and caring person. She loved life.
We were planning on having another child and Nadia had said if we had a girl, she’d call her Anastasia.
Her son and I are still very close and it breaks my heart that he’ll grow up without his mum.
He’s not processed her death fully but knows she’s no longer here.
We are all trying to rally round him as best we can.
I’ll always think of him as my son, too.
Nadia was the love of my life, my pillar and my light. I’ll never forget her.
Devon Gosine, 37