“I’ve learned that grief and joy can sit side by side,” Rethabile Khumalo reflects. “Even during celebration, there’s still longing—but becoming a mother has helped me find purpose and healing inside that pain.”
For Rethabile Khumalo, the start of motherhood arrived alongside mourning. She is the daughter of the late kwaito star Winnie Khumalo, and her new chapter began in the middle of a loss that changed everything.
There was no real pause between losing her mother and learning how to love as a parent. The days quickly filled with nappies and sleepless nights, and with the added weight of raising a child while still adjusting to life without Winnie.
“Becoming a single mother after losing my mom, Winnie, has been one of the most emotional and transformative journeys of my life,” she said. “There are moments when I deeply wish she were here—to guide me, to see my child grow, and to share in the love and happiness that comes with motherhood.”
She added that the most difficult part is the silence where a phone call should be. “The milestones I can’t share. The ordinary moments that suddenly feel heavy because there’s no one to call first,” she continued. “The hardest part is not being able to share those moments with her—both the beautiful ones and the difficult ones.”
Quick facts
- Rethabile Khumalo says grief and joy can coexist, even during happy moments.
- She became a single mother after the death of her mother, Winnie Khumalo.
- She describes the hardest moments as the silence where she would normally call her mom.
- She keeps Winnie’s memory present at home through photos and everyday conversations.
- Rethabile visits the graveyard often to reflect, pray, and sit with grief.
- She wants to pass on Winnie’s warmth, strength, kindness, and resilience to her child.
- She believes her child helps her feel that love continues after loss.
Khumalo also shared that she feels a daughter’s imagination often includes picturing her mother as part of the journey. Accepting that her mother is no longer physically present has been “incredibly emotional,” she said.
“There’s a loneliness that comes with grieving while raising a child,” she explained. “The doubts that show up at 3 a.m., the questions about whether I’m doing enough—plus the missing comfort and wisdom. But in all of that absence, I discovered resilience I didn’t know I carried.”
She said Winnie’s absence has pushed her to trust herself more. “It taught me to lead with love and raise my child in a way that honours the values my mother instilled,” she added.
“Even though she’s not physically here, I still feel her presence in the way I love, protect, and care for my child every day,” Khumalo continued. “Motherhood also gave me a new understanding of Winnie.”
For her, the smallest details have changed. “Motherhood has made me appreciate the little things my mom did for me,” she said. “I now understand that a mother’s love never really leaves you.”
She also keeps Winnie’s memory alive through her home. Pictures of Winnie are everywhere, and her grandchild—who never met her—recognises her in photographs and even sings along to her songs, a quiet way to ensure Winnie isn’t forgotten.
“I make it a point to keep her presence alive through memories, conversations, love, and laughter,” Khumalo said. “I never made a promise to her that she won’t be just a story from the past; even though she’s no longer physically here, she still remains part of our everyday life.”
Rethabile holds space for Winnie in even more personal, quieter ways. She visits the graveyard often, using the time to reflect, pray, and sit with grief as it comes in waves. “Those moments are part of my healing,” she said.
What she’s passing on is intentional. Winnie was known for her warmth and strength, and for the way she made people feel seen. Khumalo says she wants those qualities to live on through her child.
“One thing I’m definitely trying to pass on from my mom is her love,” she shared. “She had a warm and nurturing spirit in the way she made people feel safe and cared for. No matter what she was facing, she showed up for her family with strength, warmth, and grace.”
Rethabile wants her son to carry the same sense of family, kindness, and resilience. To her, legacy isn’t measured by fame or public memory—it’s about how love is handed down inside a home.
“If my child can grow up with even a fraction of the strength and heart that Winnie had, then I know I’m honouring her legacy,” she said.
She has also learned to let herself feel everything without pretending she’s fine. “What has helped me cope is allowing myself to feel everything honestly instead of trying to be strong all the time,” she explained. “My child reminds me every day that even after loss, life continues, and love continues too.”
On the hardest days, she looks at her son and sees Winnie reflected back. It’s in the way he laughs, the way he reaches for her, and the small gestures that feel familiar. “Sometimes just looking at my child reminds me that love continues, even after loss,” she said.
“There’s a part of her that still lives within him, within me, and within the way I love and nurture my child every day.”
Khumalo emphasised that grief doesn’t cancel out joy, and joy doesn’t erase grief. “The two exist side by side, and pretending otherwise only makes it harder,” she said.
She wishes more people understood what motherhood can look like after losing a parent. “I wish people understood that becoming a mom after losing your own mother is both incredibly beautiful and deeply painful,” Khumalo said. “You can be deeply happy and still deeply hurting—and both emotions can exist together.”
For the daughter of a woman who helped give South Africa its voice, her act of love is quieter now. “It’s in keeping that voice alive in her home, in her child, and in the way I choose to grieve out loud rather than alone,” she said.
“Even though she’s not here physically, I’m doing my best to ensure that her legacy continues through the next generation,” Khumalo added.
