As my father's absence stretched into years, the burden of life grew heavier on my mother. I watched her sell her finest clothes just to buy food. She never stopped smiling, but behind her eyes lived exhaustion.
I became her helper — her shadow. I learned to cook, fetch water, and comfort my siblings when hunger cried louder than their voices.
At night, when everyone slept, she would sit on her mat and pray. I could hear her whisper:
"God, help me raise these children. Don't let my hands fail me."
Those words stayed with me. She was more than a mother; she was the pillar of everything we were. But even the strongest pillars can crack under too much weight.