Could It Be Umfelo?

 I had three sons.

Three boys who once filled my home with laughter, noise, and life. Today, the silence in my house is louder than anything I have ever heard.

My second born was the first to leave me. He died in a car accident. What broke me even more was that in the car he was travelling in, he was the only one who did not survive. I asked myself a thousand questions. Why him? Why was he the only one? I struggled to cope because nothing made sense.

Before I could fully heal, before I could even breathe properly again, tragedy struck my last born. He shot himself and his girlfriend. That day, a part of my soul collapsed. I sank into a depression so deep I could not recognise myself anymore. I was still trying to accept that my second son was gone forever, and now I had to bury another child.

I was left with one son. My only remaining hope. I told myself, “At least I still have him. He will bury me one day when the Lord remembers me.” I held onto him like he was my last piece of strength.

But life had other plans.

It was his day off when he received a call from work. Someone had called in sick. They were short staffed. On his way to help, on his way to work, he got into an accident that took his life.

Just like that, I became a mother with no children.

Three graves.

Three funerals.

Three pieces of my heart buried in the ground.

And now I sit alone and ask the question that keeps me awake at night:

Could it be umfelo?

In many families, when death comes more than once, people start whispering. They say maybe it is a curse. Maybe someone did something. Maybe there is a spiritual attack. When pain is this heavy, it feels impossible that it could all be coincidence.

Grief searches for meaning. My heart wants an explanation because accepting that I lost all my children to separate tragedies feels unbearable.

What I know is this: no parent should bury their child , let alone three. And whether spiritual or not, the pain is the same.

I am not just asking about a curse.

I am asking why my womb is empty.

I am asking why I am still here.

Maybe the real question is:

How does a mother survive this kind of loss? 💔