In a small, quiet village, there lived an elderly woman named Maria. She had spent her entire life raising her son, David, alone. Widowed at a young age and with no one to rely on, Maria worked tirelessly—cleaning houses, tending to fields, and even sewing late into the night just to ensure her son had everything he needed.
David was her pride and joy. She dreamed of the day he’d grow up, succeed, and repay her sacrifices, not with money, but with love and care. She gave him everything, even when it meant going without herself.
Years passed, and David eventually moved to the city for a better life. At first, he called her every week, sharing stories about his job and promising to bring her to live with him soon. Maria lived for those calls, her heart swelling with pride as she listened to how well her son was doing.
But slowly, the calls became less frequent. Weeks turned into months. When Maria called him, he often sounded distracted, hurried, or made excuses to hang up. She told herself he was just busy and that he’d visit when he could.
One day, Maria decided to surprise David. With the little savings she had, she traveled to the city. When she arrived at his apartment, her heart raced with excitement. But when David opened the door and saw her, his face fell.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” he asked, his tone cold.
Maria tried to explain, smiling despite the hurt she felt. “I wanted to see you, my son. It’s been so long.”
David sighed, looking uncomfortable. “I’ve got a lot going on, Mom. You should’ve called first.”
Maria stepped inside, her heart breaking as she saw how different he was. His once warm eyes now avoided hers. She noticed pictures on the walls—none of her, but plenty of him with friends and a woman she didn’t know.
That evening, she overheard him whispering to someone on the phone. “She just showed up… I can’t deal with this right now.”
The next morning, David told Maria he’d arranged for her to take a bus back to the village. “You’ll be more comfortable there,” he said, avoiding her gaze.
Maria didn’t argue. As she boarded the bus, tears streamed down her face. She had sacrificed everything for her son, only to be cast aside when he no longer needed her.
Years later, David received a letter informing him of his mother’s passing. Maria had died alone in the small home she once shared with him. Inside the envelope was a note she had written before her death:
“My dear David,
I hope life has been kind to you. I always prayed for your happiness, even when mine was lost. I forgive you for forgetting me, for a mother’s love knows no bounds. I only wish I could have seen your smile one last time.
Forever yours,
Mom.”
David’s hands trembled as he read the note. Tears filled his eyes as the weight of his choices finally crushed him. But it was too late—Maria was gone, and with her, the unconditional love he had taken for granted.
