When I first saw the knife, I wondered why it wasn’t in its usual place.
It had been wiped clean and was lying beside a bottle of vodka and some lighter fluid which belonged to my older brother who had schizophrenia. I put them neatly aside.
I couldn’t have known it then, but my life was about to spin out of control.
I had come home to discover that my mother was nowhere to be found. My younger brother was troubled because he could not reach her by phone. The older one had locked himself up in his room.
Something began to twist within my heart. So I called my uncle to come over to talk to my older brother, whose behaviour was often very unpredictable.
After coaxing my older brother out of his room, we asked him about the out-of-place items and my missing mother. He told us stories that made no sense. It became disturbingly clear that he was lying about everything.
Sensing that our older brother was hiding something, my younger brother told my uncle to check under his bed. Boxes and bags had been moved around. As my uncle stepped into the room, my older brother jumped up and followed him with a wild look in his eyes. The atmosphere was charged with danger.
After pulling out one of the boxes below my brother’s bed, my uncle shouted in horror: “Her legs are there! What have you done?”
My heart shattered into a million pieces as my mind put together what had happened while I’d been out. I began to wail.
As a scuffle broke out between my uncle and brother, I ran into my room. I locked the door and repeatedly screamed as the tears fell: “I want my mother back!”
Things quickly escalated into a hostage situation. My older brother locked the front door and demanded for everyone’s phones. My younger brother threw his phone on the floor and distracted him from reaching for another knife. My uncle tried to placate him.
My eyes darted to the landline in my room.
We were ultimately able to contact the police three times throughout the ordeal. Because of this, I know that God was with us.
And as my younger brother escaped, my uncle singlehandedly restrained my older brother.
To this day, my uncle testifies that it was God – not him – who held my brother. My older brother had the strength to break down a door. And when he was finally arrested that night, it had taken five policemen and my uncle to handcuff him.
As the dust settled, I turned to my uncle and asked tearfully: “Is she really gone?”
Yes.
But this was the question I was really asking: “Are we orphans now?”
Grief gripped my life in the years to come.
At home,I would often find myself in tears, lying brokenhearted on the floor and crying out to God. There was no answer most times, but peace would eventually sink in and I would get up again.
In a way, I was happy that my mum was with Jesus. She would experience no more pain from all the surgeries she had been through and from the arthritis she had been battling. She wouldn’t have to worry about how long she had to keep working, or who was going to look after my schizophrenic brother who suffered from paranoia .
But little things would remind me that I had been robbed of a mother. When I watched other young women with their mums on the street, my heart tightened with anguish as tears flowed freely.
My mentor and friends stood by me and sat with me as I wrestled and struggled, wondering if I could ever be who I used to be. With tears in their eyes, they listened and believed in me when I could not even believe in myself. They spoke hope over my life and truth into me.
One day as I was sobbing and praying, I saw Jesus in a vision – but not in white robes. He had been crucified and was scarred and disfigured.
In the vision, He took my hand and placed it upon His broken body. Then He spoke these words to me: For every single person who goes through unspeakable pain, I too went through this. I know.
It wrecked me to hear. He knew.
He had been with me every single time I cried. He had seen me walk home with tears streaming down from my eyes. He had seen my broken heart every time I thought about all the birthdays Mum would no longer spend with me. He heard all my regrets of not having loved her enough.
He knew. And that has comforted me to this day.
I still have no answers for the horrors of that night. But I have God’s love and understanding. We live in a broken world where bad things happen to good people. The Bible talks about the devil, who has been described as a thief that seeks to destroy the life that Jesus has come to give us (John 10:10).
I know this world is not our home. When Christ returns, He will restore things to the way they should be. There will be no more pain and no more tears. And we will be reunited with our our loved ones who are with Him (Revelation 21:4).
