On the Sunday before she started high school, while other students were ironing uniforms and preparing books, Jamelia McPherson received news no child should ever hear.
Her mother had died of cancer.
“I still remember it,” she says, her voice trembling slightly as she speaks. “It was Sunday. I was supposed to start Glenmuir High the next day, and instead of getting excited, I was just broken.”
Monday morning, she went to school anyway and continued to do so every day, although it was a struggle.
She recalled one day having a Spanish test.
“I couldn’t focus at all. I sat at the back of the class crying the whole time, but no one knew. I didn’t talk much. I’m not the kind of person to draw attention. I just sat there, trying to do the test through tears.”
When she couldn’t hold the pain in anymore, she wrote something on the test paper that changed everything: “My mother died.”
That silent cry for help reached her teacher, who passed the message to Mrs Althea Francis, then a guidance counsellor at Glenmuir.
Mrs Francis, who attended the May Pen Seventh-day Adventist Church, stepped in like an angel on assignment.
“She came to me and helped me sign up for a scholarship,” she said. “Since first form, I have been getting support through the school. It helped with lunch, bus fare—everything. That’s how I made it through those early years,” she shared with Freedom Come Rain.
Despite the pain, despite the emptiness left by the one person who believed most in her, she pressed on.
“My mother would have done everything for me,” she said. “If she were alive, things would’ve been different. But I had to keep going—not just for her, but for me and my father, too. Even though he didn’t have the money, he tried. And I wanted to make him proud as well.”
Pausing, Jamilia reflected on how her mother wanted her to pass for Glenmuir, and it was that desire that saw her determining to do her best.
Her mother, she shared, was not only a loving parent but also a remarkably kind woman. The kind of woman who overcooked on purpose—just to have enough to share.
“She would cook, and if there was food left, she’d call around and give it away. “She was always giving,” she said, a proud smile slipping through her sadness. “She worked with my aunt, and together they helped people in need, including a man named Mr. Samuels.
Years later, during sixth form, he started sending her $20,000 a month. That helped her eat, take the bus, and save.
Jamelia sees this as no coincidence, as she noted it was the good her mother did coming back to her.
“God was taking care of me through the people she had blessed,” she pointed out.
Even with that support, the journey was steep, as she shared that there were some “very hard days.” There were times when she was at school and wanted a parent to show up. At graduation, she recalled that she had her godmother, her godsister, her father, and some friends, but the one person she wanted most wasn’t there.
Now, looking forward to starting her first year at the University of Technology, where she will be pursuing a career in nursing, she said her mother’s experience made her want to care for the sick.
The budding healthcare worker still has her moments of grief, as she revealed that to this day, she still has nights where she wants to burst into tears. “The feelings mostly attack me at night. That’s when I pray and try to sleep. I still miss her deeply.”
Although she hasn’t yet confessed the Lord as her Saviour, Jamelia said she goes to church every Sunday and never misses an opportunity to pray.
“And even though I am not formally a Christian, I believe. That faith gives me strength,” she said.
The first-year student, confessing that her challenges haven’t magically disappeared, said her perspective has grown stronger.
“Sometimes I tell myself I haven’t really done anything to deserve this kind of help. I don’t think I’m a bad person, but I’m not perfect either. Yet, people keep showing up for me—just like they did for my mother.”
Admitting that now she understands what people mean when they say, “God gives His hardest battles to His strongest soldiers,” her words of advice to other young persons facing challenges are not to give up.
“God isn’t done with you. It might not be your time yet, but your time is coming. It’s not in vain. Every pain, every test—God is shaping you.”
And as for Jamalco and others who sowed into her life, she had heartfelt words.
“To the people behind the scholarship that helped carry me through, I just want to say thank you. Thank you for believing in me, for seeing something in me worth investing in. You’ve given me a second chance. Maybe a third. And I promise [you that] your time and effort will not be wasted.”
Then she smiled, with conviction in her eyes. “To me, the sky isn’t the limit. It’s just the beginning.”