Kitale widow shares inspiring 8-year journey through life after losing hubby while young

• Eight years ago, Sylvia Khisa found herself alone with her two young children and a grave after her beloved husband died
• Left in a tiny rented house, she was surrounded by reminders of her late husband’s life: his clothes, shoes, and familiar spaces that felt painfully unfamiliar
• The widow took a trip down memory lane to when life began to shift, and the difficult decisions she made to remain afloat for herself and her babies

In the quiet village outskirts of Kitale, a widow’s story of loss, resilience, and slow rebuilding is resonating deeply with many who know the weight of grief and the long road back to life.

Now eight years into widowhood, Sylvia Khisa says she is still learning what it means to live again after losing her husband while still young.

In a series of posts on Facebook, she explained that the pain never arrives neatly packaged; it comes in waves, sometimes gently, sometimes all at once.

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Her journey began in heartbreak, but it was the days immediately after the burial that remain most vivid. She recalls sitting outside an unfinished house, staring into a future that suddenly felt empty and unfamiliar.

“That was reality hitting me,” she says. “You start thinking maybe things could have been different. Maybe he would still be here.”

In those early days in Chesamisi, within the wider Bungoma–Kakamega region, life became a struggle of basics: eating, sleeping, and simply getting through the day.

She describes a feeling of emptiness that cannot be easily explained when the people who filled a home are suddenly gone, leaving only silence and memories.

“You realise everyone who used to fill your home has left,” she says. “You remain alone with your children and a grave nearby. Even walking out, you meet the reality of death again.”

Despite the overwhelming grief, she credits her younger sister for standing firmly by her side and strangers who stepped in at critical times, helping her navigate official processes such as obtaining a death certificate.

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In the busy offices of Kisumu, she remembers a former student of her late husband accompanying her through the entire process, even paying for transport and expenses she could not afford at the time.

“God used strangers,” she says simply. “That girl stayed with me the whole day. I didn’t even know her well, but she helped me so much.”

At the time, she says, she had nothing stable; no income, no clear plan, and two young children depending on her.

Returning to Kiminini, she found herself in a rented teacher’s house, surrounded by reminders of her late husband’s life: his clothes, shoes, and familiar spaces that now felt painfully unfamiliar.

“It was very hard,” she says. “Same house, same bedroom, everything was his. I was alone with my sister. Sometimes you just cry until there is nothing left.”

The hardest moments, she recalls, were not just the silence but the constant interaction with reminders; colleagues offering condolences, neighbours saying “pole” without fully understanding the depth of her loss.

But slowly, life began to shift.

About six months after the burial, she began rebuilding from what she describes as “nothing but faith and determination.”

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Insurance support provided a small financial cushion, and with it, she began making practical decisions for survival.

She moved to strengthen her home in Kiminini, a structure that had remained unfinished. Walls were plastered, windows installed, water and electricity connected, and a small gate added where there had once been open ground.

“It was no longer about how he planned it,” she says quietly. “It was about survival. I had to become both father and mother.”

Alongside the home, she invested in small-scale farming. What began with just 100 chickens gradually turned into a source of stability.

Eggs became a daily income, while maize, beans, bananas, and traditional vegetables filled both the family table and the local market.

At peak production, she recalls collecting crates of eggs daily, selling some and using others to support the household. The farm, she says, became her anchor.

“Even when life was painful, the chickens still laid eggs,” she says with a faint smile. “That kept me going.”

She also reopened a small cosmetic business that had once operated in Chesamisi, though distance and emotional strain eventually forced her to close it permanently and relocate her life fully to Kiminini.

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The move, she admits, was not easy. Every trip back to her former workplace came with a flood of memories: of her husband, their shared routines, and the life they once built together.

“Sometimes I would cry the whole way back,” she says. “Because I remembered how we used to close the shop together and go home.”

Over time, she made the difficult decision to let go of that chapter completely.

Now settled back in Kiminini, she describes herself as a “village mother,” managing children, farm life, and ongoing development of her homestead.

Income from farming and small investments has allowed her to continue improving the property bit by bit.

She has fenced the compound, expanded cultivation, dug a water source, and diversified crops to ensure food security and small income streams.

Beyond maize and beans, she now grows bananas, sukuma wiki, kunde, and other local vegetables.

Her children, one of them in school, remain her central motivation. She also took responsibility for another orphaned child previously supported by the family, ensuring education continued uninterrupted.

Today, she says, life is still not perfect, but it is stable. The home is no longer empty. The farm is productive. The children are growing. And the memories, while still present, no longer completely define her days.

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“Life is a journey,” she says. “Some days you cry, some days you laugh. But you must keep going. God is faithful.”

Looking back at the eight-year journey, she does not frame it as an easy recovery, but as a continuous process of learning to live again, step by step, season by season, loss by loss, and small victory by small victory.

In her words, what remains is not just survival, but testimony.

Source: NGBREAKINGNEWS