Mary’s Mum Couldn’t Bear the Loss and Turned to Alcohol, Forgetting Her Daughter’s Very Existence

Back when I was in Year 5, I recall admiring Emily, my younger neighbour. With her long, golden plaits and charming freckled face, she always caught my eye. Often, I would walk her home, safeguarding her from the local bullies who delighted in tormenting smaller children. Yet, our lives took a harrowing turn when tragedy struck Emilys family. Her father fell gravely ill and eventually passed away after a prolonged struggle with his condition.

Emilys mother, overwhelmed by grief, began to drown her sorrows in drink. Neglect steadily crept into their home, and Emilys care suffered. Sometimes, her mother would even forget to feed her. Emily soon stopped going to school altogether. At first, I assumed she mustve been unwell, but as weeks slipped into months and Emily remained absent, my worry grew. Eventually, I approached my own mother, expressing my concerns and asking after Emily.

My mother broke the news gently: Son, Emily has been taken to an orphanage. A deep sadness settled over me as I realised I might never see her again. Years rolled by, and after finishing my military service, I returned to my hometown. One afternoon, as if by fate, I happened to cross paths with Emily. She was strolling hand in hand with her husband, her pregnant belly visible beneath her coat. It was clear she was nearing the end of her pregnancy. But our meeting was brief, and another four years passed before I saw her again.

Our paths converged once more when Emily returned to our town. She was now a single mother, her husband having gone in a violent street brawl, succumbing to his addiction for the bottle. Emily was left to raise her young son on her own. Every time I looked at her, a deep emotion surged within me. I realised, somehow, that our destinies were entwined. Both Emily and her little boy needed me, and I understood then that I was meant to play a vital part in their lives. And so I did.