I was 14 years old when my dearest mother left me. It was the festive season, when many families get together and exchange gifts. For me this time was like a dark cloud. My mother was very sick and I didn’t know why she was so sick.
My mother used to do many things for me and my little brother. But somehow she seemed to love my little brother the most. I’m not saying that she didn’t love me, just that she liked him most because he was the baby.
If I remember correctly, it was about 10 days before Christmas when she told me she was sick. I thought, ‘Okay, it’s not serious. She will get better soon.”
But I was wrong. She lay in bed like a dying puppy. Her skin started to change. She couldn’t talk properly. She couldn’t walk and lost a lot of energy and weight.
My father tried to call an ambulance when it was obvious she was very sick, but she told him she was fine.
The next day, she said her last words to me: ‘I have HIV/Aids and I love you.”
At that time, I didn’t know anything about HIV/Aids.
That night my father took her to the Johannesburg hospital in a Maxi-taxi. She died on the way. My father came back crying and all he said was, ‘She has left us.”
I got the shock of my life and stormed out of the house, not knowing what to do. I cried and cried for hours, hoping that my father was just playing around. I thought the Lord was punishing me. I hated God and that night I said to myself I will never set foot in a church again.
We were all so confused. We didn’t want anyone else other than her. She was our mentor. HIV/Aids took her away from me and my family. I am the only one who knows that it was Aids – not even my family knows. If people ask me how she died, I just tell them she was poisoned at work.
I loved her and I still love her. There’s no day that goes by that I don’t take a moment to think about her – the good times and
the bad times we had. She will be in my heart forever. May her beautiful soul rest in harmony.