As if at play, Mom's soul leapt to its Creator. Her eyes ceased blinking, and her lifeless body lay still as if it had never moved.

My heart became too vulnerable to beat, and my legs too heavy to move. My eyes remained fixed on people, unable to cry. I was just not myself.

Dad was screaming, calling on God to bring back life to his dearest. He kept saying he couldn’t survive this fate. He fell on her corpse, shaking and begging her to speak.

Amidst the pandemonium, some women arrived and informed us that they would prepare her funeral. We were asked to give them space, so the others, including Dad and me, were taken outside.

In the next hour, Mom was prepared for the funeral prayer and placed in a coffin. Seeing her corpse being taken outside made me burst into loud, bitter screams before I fainted.

Since then, I don't know how she was taken to the cemetery.

I regained consciousness in the evening. I woke up with uncontrollable tears, calling Mom's name. I was later told that Dad had been admitted to the hospital.

Indeed, Dad fainted after he was asked to help lower Mom into the grave. Her body was too heavy for his hands, as if he were being asked to lift the entire earth. He couldn’t do it, collapsed, and was rushed to the hospital.

Dad opened his eyes that night, screaming and calling Mom's name. He kept saying he was too vulnerable to bear the loss and was completely out of his senses. Before dawn, he answered the glory call.

The mourning home turned into a river of tears. Almost everyone in the community lost their minds. I fainted countless times. I was not just an orphan now but a lost child in the middle of a desolate desert.

Mom didn't have siblings. We barely saw her relatives visiting during her lifetime. Dad’s relatives, though some were wealthy, never supported him. I was their only daughter, and we lived in a rented house.

I am a 100-level undergraduate student in a university, and we were on an end-of-session holiday.

The week after next was supposed to be our resumption date. Even before my parents' deaths, the landlord had been warning Dad about the overdue rent, as one year’s rent had expired two months ago.

One of our neighbors, who had a good relationship with Dad, assured me that he would give me a room in his house. However, he was too poor to sponsor my education but promised to support me however he could.

When the holiday ended, I packed my things to leave. I sold Mom’s old furniture to pay for my registration and accommodation, but the amount couldn’t even cover the registration fee. The neighbor I stayed with said he couldn’t support me at that time due to his financial state but promised to send me ₦10,000 as capital the next month to start a business for my feeding.

I went to other neighbors I knew for support, but they couldn’t offer a kobo. So, I decided to resume school and seek help from others.

I traveled back to school the following week and sought support from friends. They gave me what they could and advised me to meet student association officials or lecturers.

I approached my departmental students’ association, and they quickly intervened. They fully paid my registration fees and asked me to find friends to squat with.

That’s how I managed to pay my fees.

My friends provided space in their room for me. I used the little money I had to buy foodstuff and started selling pap to students. The promised ₦10,000 capital from the neighbor came after a month and a half, and it helped me expand my business. It sustained my feeding and took care of some other small responsibilities.

The students' association continued to cover my registration fees until this session. I also received contributions from friends and other neighbors.

This has been my life throughout the years as an orphan. I believe that if my parents were alive or had left me wealth, I would never have had such hardship. I cry a river over this, but I am striving and determined to triumph in this journey.