How are we expected to feel okay even when times often call for the worst? Waiting on the edge for us to react and see how far we can go? How does one keep on, keeping on, even when there is a need to pull out from it all? You know when people say, ‘no two days are ever the same’ or ‘you will always experience one of those days?’… Well, today (piece written on the 1st October 2021), was one of those for me.

It started with a late night call. 10 PM to be exact, from someone who would not normally give me late night calls and I immediately thought of the worst. It’s funny how simple things like a late night call can easily trigger such thoughts. Exhausted, drained as I was fast asleep, I battled to take the call. After some time: eight minutes later on to be exact, I developed the courage to return the call as confident and as courageous as I could ever think I’d be.

I listened to the voice on the other side of the phone and attempted to take deep breaths while doing so calm myself down.

Someone I know, had been rushed to hospital and was admitted that same night as a result of a medical emergency. Something tragic had transpired during the day. Well, not that much of a blow for now, because this meant there was still a fighting chance for her and all I could do then was to pray and hope that the tide turns.

I then went through much of the following day as a walking zombie to be honest. Work was demanding as always, had an important company guest visit whom everyone was on their feet and toes preparing hard for, while I also had to submit an important work model by the end of the week – my plate was full. Luckily, my focus on work made my attention divert for a while from the personal agony I was worried about. Still finding my feet on this new software at work, by the way and learning something new can be a great challenge, frustrating – but all of this in the quest for growth. This is where I now find myself, not getting any older to learn something new. This pressure chose an inappropriate time to pay me a visit, come to think of it.

Things went on normal and occupied for the most part of the day.

This was true until about 03H31 PM.

I felt my heart go heavy and then numb suddenly.

I tried ignoring the call but somehow found myself answering it.

Then the news I had dreaded, landed to my ears. The lack of proper signal at work did not make it any easier as I struggled to make out the actual words properly but the tone of the call from the other person, said it all.

I run an after-school tutoring project from a Children’s Shelter in Phokeng, a town located about 16 km outside of Rustenburg in the North West Province of South Africa. It is through this work at this shelter that I met a woman who is the mother to about three of the young children (two boys and three girls) with incredible potential that I assist. Working with children, I have grown to realize and in fact, appreciate that to win, often requires a spirit of endurance, that one really needs to rely on the support given from the parents. Parents are key in this quest. This one parent has been fundamental towards supporting my work at the shelter. She’s had a powerful impact on me and in that she was able to mobilize other parents in the community to support and encourage my work and be brave enough to face me, straight up about it. Essentially, rallying behind me. People from the community usually see me from a distance around the area yet completely unaware of the real reason behind my frequent visits at the shelter. She broke that ice. I have since found that the confrontation has shaped me immensely for resilience and has fueled me when times got tough. There’s a lot more of those than wins unfortunately but I choose to embrace the moments of victory no matter how incremental they may appear because ultimately, for me, it’s always about the bigger goal.

I’ve lost that pillar that has shaped meaning and perspective to this work I am so passionate about.

It has not been an easy journey. Still difficult even now.

And with the tragic event that has occurred, I sit alone wondering if I did enough to help? I ask myself whether I could have intervened better or did something to alleviate her pains? Numb them away, so to speak? Could I have foreseen this? Surely, there must have been an indication of how things were going leading to this tragedy? I don’t know. I wonder.

Alas…

What now? What’s happens to us now? Well, for me, giving in is not an option as I have come too far with the project to simply let it fizzle out. The progress done thus far is too immense to ignore.

What happens to your three, precious and beautiful girls – one who is almost a teen while the other two are still in the lower foundation phase grades? And your boys? What happens to them also?

Who do they grow up having to call mom, from now onwards? Who will look after them, seeing that a decision by the ‘family’ was taken to take them (some of them) back to the Eastern Cape? Breaking them apart? To Eastern Cape – over a thousand kilometers away from us? What do we do? What do we say? Who do I cry out to?

I’ve been numb for quite some time now based on what happened and it’s amazing how the people you relate to on a daily basis end up being more than just people to you; they become family.

Mama Mavis, you’ve broken our hearts, yes, it’s not only mine that is ripped apart. The shelter will miss you dearly and I bleed for the now uncertain future of your kids. I hope they find healing and comfort. And that whoever decides to take them in, looks after them well, does right by them and continues to prioritize their education, taking on from where I left off.

Life is a mystery, unpredictable in its moments with some closures only serving as an open door for more questions that will never be answered…. ‘Move on, time heals all wounds’ they say.

Some also say you’re finally at peace now. I ask myself, if your life was a cup of storm? If so, why couldn’t we help? Why could we not see that or react to it to try and intervene or avert this tragedy?

For now, I say good night and rest well. May God’s peace be upon you. For your children left behind, I hope that one day when they are older, they will get to make sense of it all and get to a place of ease with your sudden passing. I know they all have a story to tell one day.

But for now, I say go numb,  my heavy heart. May God’s mercy and omnipotence be enough to get it back pumping normal again.