08/05/2026
This Mother’s Day, Rose for Relief Charity Organization honors the strength, sacrifice, and resilience of single mothers who continue to fight for a better future for their children despite every hardship. Kelly’s story is a reminder that even in the darkest moments, support, compassion, and determination can help rebuild a life. Today, we celebrate mothers like her who never gave up. Happy Mother’s Day to all the strong and inspiring mothers in our community. 🌸
Kelly’s Story:
“I Came Back With Nothing”
He left for work like any other day. A fisherman in Suriname, doing what he knew to do to provide for his family. But that day didn’t end like the others. They said he fell overboard. They said it happened fast. But they never found his body.
There was no goodbye. No closure. Just questions… and a silence that stretched into years. On days like this, the memory still sits heavy in my chest.
I came back to Guyana with nothing but a suitcase and two children—a 6-year-old asking questions I couldn’t answer, and a 4-month-old who only needed me. I had no money, no plan, and no safety net. I moved into my brother’s house hoping for stability, but within two months that door closed too. His wife couldn’t live with an in-law, and just like that, they left.
I stood in an empty house with no mattress, no job, and no support. Just two children looking at me like I was their entire world. And in that moment, I made a decision: “This will never happen to me again.”
I didn’t wait for help. Within three months, I found a job—nothing big, just something honest. I started working at Jermaine’s Boutique. It wasn’t just a workplace; it became my second home. The people there became family, and for the first time in a long time, I felt supported. I worked hard—long hours, extra time, always pushing forward. My mother stepped in to help with the children, and that support became my lifeline.
In 2021, Rose for Relief Charity Organization met me and my children during one of the hardest periods of my life. Their assistance reminded me that even in difficult seasons, there are still people willing to help and care. At a time when I was carrying everything on my own, their support meant more than words can explain.
Six years passed, and I didn’t stay the same. I grew. From a sales representative to a supervisor in charge. But my journey didn’t stop there.
I have a friend named Arianna—the kind of friend who doesn’t let you settle, the kind who tells you the truth even when it’s hard. When the GOAL program opened applications, Arianna pushed me to sign up for the SCQF program.
It wasn’t easy. I had a new baby, a full-time job, and late nights filled with studying and exhaustion that felt endless. There were many times I wanted to quit, but Arianna wouldn’t let me. She pulled me back again and again, and eventually, we graduated.
Arianna moved forward into her career as a teacher, but I still felt stuck. Life started closing in—rent, bills, groceries, school expenses, responsibilities that never paused. Everything felt heavier, bigger, harder. There were nights I cried alone, then wiped my tears before morning came because I had no choice but to get up again. No one else was coming.
Years later, Arianna pushed me again—this time toward nursing. I doubted myself and didn’t believe I could do it. Watching other people move ahead while I felt left behind slowly destroyed my confidence and my sense of purpose. I fell into depression because doing everything alone and still feeling like you’re not getting anywhere… breaks something inside you.
Then November 2025 came, and I got the call. I was accepted into the Batch 3 Nursing Program, and classes started in January 2026.
Now I walk in my uniform with pride. A student of HSE. A woman who once had nothing is now training to care for others. I never imagined myself in healthcare, but now I’m falling in love with it. My dream is to become a midwife.
It’s still not easy. Nursing training doesn’t pay, I still don’t have a steady income, and I still have two children depending on me. There are still sleepless nights, still tears, and still uncertainty about tomorrow. But there’s also something stronger now: purpose.
My eldest is now 12 and just wrote NGSA. My baby is now 5 and starting primary school. Everything I do now is bigger than survival. It’s legacy.
I’m not finished yet. I’m still climbing, still fighting, still showing up every single day. Because one day, my children will look at me and understand:
“Mommy did it. Mommy made it happen. And we never had to depend on anyone… because Mommy got us.”
