I Walked Away With Grief

It was 3:30 in the afternoon.

I got off the bus like I do every day.

Just a short walk to my room —

maybe 700, maybe 800 meters.

But that day,

the sun felt harsher than usual.

And as I looked ahead toward the main road,

my feet stopped.

My eyes welled up.

Because I witnessed something

too loud for the city noise to silence,

too inhuman to go unseen.

A son —

dressed sharp in formal office attire,

as if education could now be measured

in salary slips and shoe polish,

as if manners and decency were optional.

There was pride stitched into his collar,

but maybe…

there was shame too.

Not the shame of being rude,

but the shame of being seen

next to someone too old,

too unpolished —

his own mother.

A heart too cold,

with arrogance and ungratefulness

tucked deep inside —

right where love used to live.

And a mother —

standing beside his luxury car,

unsure how to open its door.

Unfamiliar. Unfit.

Like she didn’t belong

in the world her womb had once built.

He was shouting.

I couldn’t hear the words,

but the weight of them

reached me anyway.

Maybe he was listing

the debts he had repaid.

Maybe he thought

he had paid them all.

Maybe he forgot

that a mother’s ledger has no due dates —

only silent sacrifices,

and a kind of selflessness

that never asks for receipts.

His words shook her —

her balance,

her resolve,

maybe even her hearing.

Not physically alone,

but somewhere deep where

the voice of love once echoed.

Her hands trembled.

Even the walking stick,

her one steady companion,

was slipping away —

as if everything she leaned on

was now letting go.

Everything…

except her tears.

She leaned against the car for support.

Because had she not,

she might’ve collapsed —

not just to the ground,

but inward,

quietly and completely.

And me?

I stood there.

Still.

Frozen.

My friend pulled my hand,

urging me to keep walking.

He said nothing,

but his eyes whispered:

“Don’t get involved.

Who are we to speak?”

I didn’t know what to do in that moment.

But in the silence of a mother who didn’t fight back,

and a crowd that didn’t care,

I saw humanity quietly begin to disappear.

What lingered was guilt...

and a kind of despair

that doesn’t leave.

I walked away with grief.

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