A Personal Struggle for Education and Healing
Life has a way of turning the brightest days into the darkest of nights. For me, one of the most heartbreaking and confusing chapters began on the day my sister graduated. While the world celebrated her academic success, my family’s world crumbled as she struggled with a mental health crisis that led to her being admitted to a psychiatric facility for three weeks. Tragically, that struggle culminated in her death when she hit her head against a wall, leaving us to grapple with an unimaginable loss.
Then, as if one tragedy wasn’t enough, my father passed away unexpectedly in his sleep on the day he was supposed to start his new job as a member of the South African Police Service. It felt like the universe was taking everything from us, leaving us to rebuild a broken home with pieces that didn't seem to fit together anymore.
In the midst of this, there’s my mother—grieving, fearful, and holding onto the pieces of our broken family in the best way she knows how. But her fear of losing more, of seeing me leave and chase my dreams, has created an unbearable tension between us. I am 20 years old. I have dreams of going to university and furthering my studies, but every time I bring it up, my mother breaks down, afraid of losing me too. The idea of letting me go feels like letting go of the last bit of stability in her life. And in many ways, I understand.
But here's the reality: I have the marks to go to university. I passed matric with good grades two years ago, but I’ve spent the last two years at home, feeling stuck. I’m not sure if it’s out of fear or the weight of responsibility, but I can’t shake the feeling that my life is on hold.
And then there's my little brother. At just 12 years old, he's in grade 7, with dreams of his own, dreams that might also be put on pause. I worry that his aspirations will be crushed under the weight of the same fears and uncertainties that have affected me and my family. I fear he might feel the same sense of stagnation that I do—an unspoken pressure to stay in the background and abandon his own future to help hold everything together.
But here's the thing I’ve come to realize: we cannot let fear of loss define our future. My mother’s fears are valid; I know they stem from the overwhelming grief of losing my sister, my father, and everything else she’s fought so hard to protect. But I can’t let this fear keep me from living my life. We all need to heal, but healing doesn’t mean giving up on the future.
My story is one of loss, but also one of hope—a hope that by pursuing my dreams, I can set an example for my little brother, and maybe even for my mother, that it is possible to move forward, to rebuild, and to live again after tragedy. I know that it won’t be easy. It might take time for my mother to accept that I need to go, to let me chase the dreams I’ve worked so hard for. But I believe in the importance of education—not just for what it offers, but for the sense of purpose and personal growth it can bring.
We are not our grief. We are not the tragedies that happened to us. And we must not let fear define the path we take. Yes, it’s hard. Yes, there are days I feel like I’m carrying the weight of my family’s brokenness on my shoulders. But there is also light in the future—a future that I can shape, not only for myself but for my family as well.
This post is for anyone who has had their dreams paused, for anyone who feels stuck under the weight of loss, or anyone struggling to reconcile their future with their family’s expectations. You are not alone. Even in the darkest moments, our dreams can still guide us forward.
The journey might be tough, but I believe that continuing to move toward education, toward our dreams, is one of the most powerful ways we can heal. And sometimes, the best way to honor the loved ones we’ve lost is to live fully, even when it seems impossible.
To my mother, I hope you can one day see that me following my dreams doesn’t mean leaving you behind, but rather, taking a step forward in honor of all that we've endured together. And to my brother, I want you to know that your dreams matter too. It’s never too late to start building a future, no matter how many obstacles we face.
In the end, the true strength lies not in avoiding pain, but in moving forward despite it. We owe it to ourselves—and to those we’ve lost—to keep pushing ahead.
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