I raised my son alone. From the first day he breathed, he became my entire world. I lived solely for him. He didn’t buy me clothes, I never rested, and I don’t even remember the last time I slept peacefully: I did everything thinking about my boy.
I worked nonstop, day and night: at the post office, cleaning houses, washing dishes in a cafeteria. When someone asked me why I demanded so much of myself, I always had the same answer:
„I want my son to have everything I never had.”
I dreamed that when he grew up, he would be by my side. I believed he would never abandon me, that he would never betray me. He would often repeat to me:
„Mom, when I grow up, I’m going to buy you a house and a car.”
And I believed him. Because he was my son.
But everything changed the day a girl came into his life. From the first time I saw her, I sensed she wouldn’t bring anything good. She looked at me with a cold, distant smile. He never called me „ma’am” or „Mom”: just „you,” as if I meant nothing.
Little by little, she poisoned his heart. She made him feel ashamed of helping me and convinced him that I was tying him up:
„Why do you give your mother money? If she wants to eat, she can work.”
„Stop taking her with you, you already have your own family.”
Click here
She began to push me away from him. She told others that I was manipulating him, even though all I ever did was call him from time to time to check on him.
I remember once I brought him a cake I made myself. She threw it away without hesitation and said disdainfully:
„Wash yourself, you can’t eat what comes from another kitchen.”
From then on, he began to grow colder, more distant. I felt like I was losing him day by day. Until, one morning, he said to me in a hollow voice:
„Mom, I want to take you somewhere. Stay there for a while, rest.”
There was no affection in his words. I knew immediately what he intended, but I agreed… because he was my son.
We traveled for hours, getting further and further away from the city. Finally, he stopped on a deserted road, surrounded only by sand and wind.
„Get out,” he ordered.
I obeyed. He didn’t look at me even once. He closed the door and drove off, leaving me there, alone, in the middle of nowhere.
I never would have imagined that, barely a month later, he would come looking for me again, begging for my forgiveness. But at that moment… what good did he do me anymore?
I froze, as if my heart had been ripped out. I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. There was only silence and immense pain. I didn’t know where to go, or how to continue.
A distant relative eventually took me in. He lived alone in a small town and offered me shelter. I didn’t call my son. I didn’t want to hear his voice.
A month later, he appeared. He knelt before me, crying like a child. His girlfriend had betrayed him: she’d cheated on him with a friend, stolen almost all the money from his account, and fled, leaving him ruined and in shame.
Through tears, he confessed that when he left me, he thought he was doing the right thing, that he was thinking of building a new life… but in reality, he was destroying everything. He apologized again and again, kissing my hands, repeating:
„Mom, forgive me… I forgot who truly loves me.”
I looked at him silently and thought:
Do I really need that forgiveness now?