The Trauma Script

The stories shared in The Trauma Script are deeply traumatic and extremely sensitive. I cannot imagine these kinds of stories being told to children without care and preparation. The episode "Faith Tale: How Grief, Trauma, and Resilience" stayed with me in particular.

When George shared his experience of loss, when he lost his dad, it immediately reminded me of my own experience of grief while I was studying in the United States. I traveled to the U.S. in 2022, and this loss happened in 2023, while I was already living far from home.

The first reaction to the loss is something I will never forget. I received a call from one of my brothers telling me that my nephew had fallen into a pit with hot ashes and had burns all over his body. I was at work at CAT Academics. I couldn’t stand. I started crying, went to the bathroom, and cried like a baby. I couldn’t go back out.

I then still inside the bathroom called my pastor’s wife in Ireland. She had been part of my support system when I lived there. I was shaking and crying, and I asked her to pray for my nephew. She told me to be strong and to believe that God would perfect everything.

It was almost the end of my shift, so I went home and spoke with my family through WhatsApp. Everyone was devastated, but trying to do everything possible to evacuate my nephew to another country, South Africa, because in Mozambique, we do not have the same medical conditions to treat burns of that severity. At that point, we will still believe that he would survive. He ended up dying in South Africa a few weeks later.

The reason I am sharing this is that, similar to George’s story, our nuclear family had never experienced the death of someone so close to us. My nephew was the first. He was about to turn ten years old when he passed away. My father used to call him “our champion.”

I was very close to my nephew. Before coming to the U.S. and before starting my master’s program, I was the one who took him and picked him up from school every day. He was in the same school and class as my daughter. When I was a preschool principal, he studied at my school. In our cultural context, my brother's son is also my son. I could not lose my son just like that.

The Prayers

After the news of the incident, I bought candles and kept them lit every day, praying. When the news about his condition worsening was about to come, I went to the university that day. I already felt something was wrong, though I didn’t know what.

I remember walking toward the College of Education when my body stopped responding. I could no longer walk. I lay down under the trees near the building, where people sometimes sit, and slept there under the sun. My body was weak. My soul felt empty. I was anxious, afraid, and exhausted. I didn’t care who passed by or who saw me. I just wanted to sleep.

After some time, I forced myself to take the bus home. That night, the call we never want to receive came. My son came into my room and said, “We have lost him.” At that moment, my world collapsed.

My brother tried to call me, but I didn’t answer, so he called my son instead. I informed a few friends in Tucson's Mozambican community. Two women came to my house, and the others in Phoenix sent me a Zelle payment to support me. One of them has lived in Tucson for over 30 years, and she came to visit me. I was lying in bed, unable to speak. She prayed, brought food and water, and stayed with me.

My professors at the university organized a fundraiser to support my brother while my nephew was still hospitalized. I sent the funds to my family. Through listening to this podcast and reflecting on my experience, I learned that you do not forget pain; you learn to live with it.

I am Catholic, and I believe in God, but it was very hard to understand why a ten-year-old child had to suffer like that. I felt deep sorrow for my youngest brother, for my sister-in-law, for my parents, and especially for my mother. The incident happened in her house, which made the trauma even heavier.

It was not an easy process for any of us.

Having to live in that space every day, knowing what happened there, was deeply painful for my mother. For a long time, she had to shut herself off and close that part of the house because it was too difficult to face. For my brother, returning to that place was also not easy, because it was where everything happened. But

In our context, especially in areas outside the city, waste management systems falter. Families often burn trash in a designated area of the yard. He was at the wrong place at the wrong time. That space became a constant reminder of loss and trauma, and for some period, it was difficult for them even to go near it. When it happens in your own space, memories cannot be avoided. This was not only grief, but it was also living daily with the physical space where trauma occurred.

The last call

That morning, before the incident, when I called my mother, my nephew answered the phone. It was the last time I heard his voice. We spoke for a while, and I told him, when grandma comes back, tell her to call me... and that was the last call. Hours later, I received the news that he had been taken to the hospital. I was angry with God, very angry, really mad.

Church and faith helped me survive. Time, support systems, and belief carried me through. I could not travel because of logistics, my courses, and my children, but I helped my family in other ways. I wrote the message to be read at the ceremony on behalf of the family. I helped select photos, prepare tributes, and coordinate details. Even from a distance, I carried my role.

One of the hardest questions was how to be weak and strong for my children. The next day, life demanded strength. My father said, “Let us always remember him as our champion.” And that is how we remember him.

Listening to the podcast reminded me that grief, disaster, and trauma are experienced differently by each person. Life is unpredictable. One day, everything is normal; the next, everything changes.

Today, I believe that God works in His own way. I believe I will see my nephew again. Blessings continue to come through his memory.

One day, I hope to write a book called O Amanhecer ( The Dawn) , where I tell this journey of grief and mourning at a distance, sharing fear, helplessness, denial, anger, and faith.

Invitation to Reflect

I would like to end this reflection by inviting you to pause and reflect as well. If you feel comfortable, feel free to share your own experiences of grief, trauma, resilience, or healing. You are welcome to email me so we can talk and reflect together.

I also invite you to listen to the podcast episode that inspired this reflection, The Trauma Script, from Hidden Brain:

https://www.hiddenbrain.org/podcast/the-trauma-script/

Vanessa Macamo

This is the place at the university where my body stopped, and grief took over. Under these trees, far from home, I lay down and slept, carrying a loss I could not yet name.