I called out for help and the maid came and she called the ambulance. My mother was taken to hospital, her friends and pastor came with to the hospital. When we got there the pastor asked a doctor about my mother and was told she was on a life support machine.

I started crying. My mother had a heart failure. My pastor tried cheering me up but I was so angry. When I went to see my mother, looking at her lying in the bed with all those pipes and machines, I didn’t know what to do. All I did was pray to God to give my mother a second chance.

“Mom, please wake up,” I said touching her hand. “I am so sorry for going to South Africa. I know it’s my fault that you’re here. But please, mom, don’t leave me. Please hold my hand,” I said crying.

She never did that. All she did was lay there.

Her friends came in and said I was going to live with them. I went to home and packed my clothes, together with some of her pictures. I lived with my mother’s friends and they did everything they could to make me happy. But all I wanted was my mother.

I visited her every chance I got. My mother’s family came to New York to see my mother when they got a chance. Six months later my mother’s family, friends and pastor, together with the congregation, decided that my mother’s life support machine should be turned off.

My grandmother came to my room to tell me what they had decided. I was the seventh of January and I was in Grade 6.

“Why would you do that?” I asked my granny.

“Because your mother needs to be in a peaceful place. We are not sure that she’s going to wake up, plus we don’t want to waste money,” she answered.

“It’s my mother’s money,” I yelled. “I know she’s going to wake up, we have to have faith. Please don’t do it,” I begged.

“My son, I know you’re hurting, we’re hurting too. It’s not an easy decision but we have to. It’s a new year and we have to move on. Please understand,” my granny said. I didn’t answer, I just kept crying. “Tessa and Jason are willing to adopt you, and you can come visit me anytime you want,”

I cried the whole night that day. I didn’t go to the hospital with them. I sat in my room and wrote a poem for my mother. My best friend came to see me. When I saw him I just cried more and more. As a friend he understood my feeling; he felt the pain I did because he had lost someone close to him too. I told him how I was feeling and suddenly I started singing.

“Kevin, you can sing,” he said when I was done. “Why don’t you sing at church?”

“I will sing at my mother’s funeral,” I said.

He said it was a good thing. My grandmother, Tessa, Jason and the pastor came back. I was looking at them waiting for them to say something.

“My son, your mother is going to laid to rest on Saturday,” pastor said.

I went outside and my friend followed me. We sat down on the green grass and talked. He was very understanding.

The following day I went to school. One of my favourite teachers called me. I just looked at her and just went to my class. I don’t know why but I did. In class, all of my classmates welcome me with hugs and letters to cheer me up. I was glad that they were supportive.

Mrs Moodley came to my class to talk to me at break time. But I didn’t want to talk. I just wanted to be alone. That Thursday I went to South Africa with Tessa and Jason. I asked one of my friends to teach me song that I will sing at my mother’s funeral. She taught me a song called Holokile.

At the memorial service I stood up to say some words about my mother. I sang a song for her; my friend helped me with it. My mother was buried with dignity the following day. On Monday we flew back to New York.

My heart was better now that my mother was buried. But I had this anger towards my father. I wanted to meet him one day and tell him what was in my heart.

***

Tell us: Do you think it’s a good idea for Kevin to see his dead again? Or should he just move on and forget him? What would you do?