FOURTEEN YEARS OLD PAIN

Muwado Ad by Muwado - Africa's Storytelling Platform

Dear Mum,

It is so cold here. No one hugs me the way you used to. Eating without you makes my heart ache deeply. I cannot run to you when I am bullied because you are not here anymore. They call me names. They tell me you do not love me and that I should stop hoping you will come back.

I cry day after day because I need my mother. I am only seven years old, yet I carry the heavy burden of loneliness on my fragile shoulders.

Mama, I keep calling you in my dreams. My tears fall uncontrollably, yet I still cannot hold your hand. I long to see you again. Why did you lie to me, Mama? Why did you leave me?

I have so many questions, but no answers.

That was the very first letter I wrote after I realized my mother would never return to pick me up. It has been three years now, and my heart still aches at the painful memory of her walking away, making empty promises.

“Joy, stay with Daddy. I promise I’m coming back.”

I am still waiting.

I am nine years old now, Mama, but you are still not here to pick me up from school or sit with me while watching my favorite movie. I can vividly remember the last time I saw you standing there with the landline phone pressed to your ear, whispering softly.

I even remember checking the mailbox every morning, hoping to find a message from you. Every day, my wound reopens. As the years pass, my tears grow heavier, and my heart sinks deeper and deeper.

Not even a single day has passed without me longing for you. The loneliness caused by your absence lingers constantly, deepening with time and distancing itself from the warmth we once shared.

I waited for you for fourteen long years.

For fourteen years, I held onto hope. I would stay up late, praying you would call. I loved you for fourteen years. I eagerly waited for you to come home, desperately hoping to hear your voice again.

The loneliness carved a deep scar into my life. I watched for you every time the phone rang, wishing it was you.

For fourteen years, I loved you.

Up to now, I still search for you in my bedroom and in the empty spaces of our home. Sadly, you will never get to read this letter, and I will never get to read yours.

You left — and you have left even now.

That is all history in my story.

Written by

Joy Amongin

Follow

Did this story move you? Every gift goes directly to Joy Amongin — writers on Muwado earn from reader appreciation, not algorithms. Even $1 makes a difference.

Gift Once Gift Monthly