My mother's tears

Why did I think uncertainty would be fun? For 20 months, I complied about having a good job and cushioning my sibling's expenses as the last born of the family, not knowing I wouldn't be in that position forever. I had sometimes wondered how it feels to be taken care of. A few days ago, the organisation I was working for announced that they would be letting people go due to lack of funding to support their work and staff, and unfortunately, or should I say wish granted, I made the cut. Lots of thoughts came to mind; I mean, why would they keep me? I did the bare minimum; I got too comfortable having the job that I forgot to save to have a backup plan. I blamed myself for making it to the list of the people they would let go. My karma has finally arrived, giving me a beautiful chair of uncertainty. After hearing the news, I informed my sibling that I no longer worked with the organisation that honestly puts bread on the table. I couldn’t care less how they felt or took it; my main worry was how my mother would react when I broke the news to her.

She had already gone to work, which barely paid her salary, and I waited for her to come back from work and eat before I could tell her anything about losing my job. Immediately, I informed her, tears dropped from her eyes, and she started crying profusely. The last time I saw my mother cry was when I was 12 years old after my father had abandoned us. Breaking the news to her and watching her cry broke my heart so badly that I wanted to take back all my silent wishes. How could I have been so selfish that I lost sight of what mattered? I was so clouded with my obsession to be taken care of that I forgot that the most important person in my life would be heartbroken. Growing hope, my only prayer was to be in a position where I could take care of my mother, and when I was given that chance and opportunity, I took it for granted. Now, it's my turn to sit in the chair of uncertainty and reflect on how I could have done things differently if I had saved more and not decided to become a saviour. I don’t know how long i am going to sit on this chair or if I'm ever going to leave the chair, but i hope my mother can forgive me for the action that I took which landed me in this seat. Now it's my turn to remember what it feels like not to know where the next meal will come from. It's my turn to experience how it feels to be cared for. I see the chair I am sitting on is too big for me, and it’s uncomfortable, but i am ready to fight my way out of it with whatever energy I have left.