My Beloved Mother Maria

This book is in honour of my beloved mother, Maria, and 

the memories that I have of her while I was growing up and 

the times we shared together. Some of the memories that I 

hold are sad, as well as happy times, and I will be reflecting 

on some of the endeavours that I have faced and some of 

the proudest moments of my life. For instance, being a 

student at Wolverhampton University, graduating in 2006 

as a registered Mental Health Nurse. 

Everything I have achieved in my life so far has been so 

with perseverance. I was not born with a silver spoon in my 

mouth, and I have had to raise my children as a single parent. 

This book is also dedicated to the woman who brought 

me to this world; she worked very hard to raise nine children 

with no immediate family members to support her (my 

grandmother, siblings etc.) and it is Maria with less support. 

But when I look back, I have come to realise that at least you 

did not suffer and you were not bedbound, but still, I never 

got that chance to say goodbye. Never would I have 

imagined that you would have gone from my life so soon; 

you were too young to die, and I thought you would still be 

here today. But I was wrong. I feel so guilty because I never 

made it to your funeral, Mom, but I was unable to. Some 

things are beyond our control, but nevertheless, I will always 

hate myself for it. 

My beloved mother loved me unconditionally and had 

so much care and empathy for her children, like a chicken, 

hiding its chick from the hungry wild animals. I loved my 

mother. She taught me to be who I am today, and I am 

extremely proud of her. I have learned to take the negative 

thoughts and turn them into positive ones, which is what 

drove me to write this biography. I have reflected on certain 

events that happened to me as a child, when I would fetch 

a container of water and carry it on my head for a long 

distance, over several trips. 

When I look back, I have realised now (as a mother as 

well) what she must have gone through. My mother's

passing was sudden and hurts to this day. However, from 

what my siblings have told me, she was complaining of 

chest pains, which resulted in her having a fatal heart attack. 

I comfort myself in knowing that your passing was sudden 

and that your pain was not elongated. 

Your voice echoes in my head all the time; you 

mentioned that at some point I will not find you there, and 

now I know you were right. I will not find you, Mom. There 

is something about losing your mother that is permanent. 

"You will lose someone you can't live without, and 

your heart will be badly broken, and the bad news is that 

you never completely get over the loss of your beloved. 

They live forever in your broken heart that doesn't seal 

back up. There is also the good news of keeping those 

memories in a hidden box in your heart and the only person 

who has the key to that box is you, 

My mother had less support, as most of her family were 

in South Africa. I presume this must have been extremely 

hard for her, but she stayed with us. When I look back, I 

realise how lucky I was to have her as my mother, and I 

knew deep-down that I was loved, and I felt it. You left too 

soon although you did not suffer, Mom, and you will 

always be remembered by me for your courage, your 

strength, your love for your children, and your kindness by 

accommodating our neighbours when they needed you. 

Whether it was the little essentials, e.g., salt, sugar or 

cooking oil, you shared this. 

As the saying goes: "Don't be ashamed to weep; 'tis 

right to grieve. Tears are only water, and flowers, trees, 

and fruit cannot grow without water. But there must be 

sunlight also. A wounded heart will heal in time, and when 

it does, the memory and love of our lost ones is sealed inside 

to comfort us." – Brian Jacques, Taggerung. 

I know I am not alone when I say your voice echoes in 

my head constantly, because others have also said, When 

you mentioned to me at some point that I will not find you 

there, and you were right. I won't see you or would be able 

talk, to let you know what I have accomplished and 

archived through determination and issues I have endured. 

You were my mother, and I will always be your daughter, 

and I felt loved by you. "There are wounds that never show 

on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything 

that bleeds." – Laurell K. Hamilton, Mistral's Kiss.

"We need to find God, and he cannot be found in noise 

and restlessness. God is the friend of silence. Nature—

trees, flowers, grass—grows in silence; see the stars, the 

moon and the sun, how they move in silence. We need 

silence to be able to touch souls." – Mother Teresa. 

My mother was a very strong woman, both mentally 

and physically, and therefore her passing away was very 

difficult to accept. As we all know, we grieve in different 

ways. We all go through painful emotions. I loved my 

mother, and yet I feel I did not show her enough love when 

she was alive. I will always be immensely proud of her. She 

looked after me when I was a child, listened to my cries 

when I was hungry, and cleaned me when I was soiled. She 

was my mother. As a young girl my mother taught me a lot; 

that I needed be kind to people, and to give them food if 

they did not have enough, and to share whatever I had. 

Although we had very little growing up, we always shared 

food. 

The nice part about growing up in the village was that 

there was so much to do; there were never any dull 

moments. At times when there were good rains, we could 

have watermelon, and there were wild fruits to eat. When 

there was no rain, the elderly believed beer had to be 

brewed, and there was a lot traditional dancing around a 

specific tree. Young girls were picked to travel to other 

villages. They were mostly naked from the top, but nobody 

was allowed to watch them. These girls were given a special 

name for this, but I was not one of them.

They were told to 

carry branches from a certain tree with them, then the elders 

could do traditional dancing around this tree late in the afternoon for the rain to come. It seems so long ago, I 

remember very little about it now. 

There were good and bad times when I was growing 

up. I have done bad things in the past, which I am not proud 

of, but I did not commit any murder. These memories will 

remain with me for the rest of my life. I struggled for a long 

time to forgive my father, and even though those wounds 

have healed slightly, it has been difficult for me. But I have, 

and as such, I feel much closer to God.

I did not attend secondary school, but I was able to go 

to university. I am still proud to work for the National 

Health Service (NHS), which I call a bid industry as it is 

multicultural. I have attended Dudley College while 

working at the same time, making myself available to pick 

up a few shifts here and there, which paid enough to put 

food on the table as well as buy my children some new 

clothes. 

Having only attended primary school, I later went on to 

pass my NVQ Level 2 and 3 in Nursing, which was enough 

to get me accepted into university. I can recall doubting 

myself, wondering how I had managed to get this far when 

I was not as educated as some of the other students who had 

made it to university. Still, I was able to gain higher grades 

than many of those students, something that my mother 

would have been most proud of had she still been alive. 

I can recall walking to the library and then having to 

get the bus home carrying a number of books because I did 

not have a car. I used to get a bus and then catch a train to 

Wolverhampton University, which I attended Monday to 

Friday, unless it was a bank holiday. I would do as many 

shifts as I could, always grateful for the opportunity to work 

for the NHS. 

I would like to leave my legacy for my children and my 

grandchildren. I would also like to say that no matter how 

difficult the situation is, there is always a light and a door 

waiting for you to open.