After my husbands funeral, my son drove me to the edge of town and said, This is where you get out, Mum. We cant look after you anymore. But I carried a secret Id kept for yearsone my ungrateful son would come to regret.
The day we buried him, a light drizzle fell. My little black umbrella couldnt hide the loneliness eating at my heart. I shivered, holding the incense stick, staring at the freshly dug grave, the soil still damp. My partner of nearly forty yearsmy beloved Robertwas now just a handful of cold earth.
I didnt have time to drown in grief. My eldest, James, the one Robert had trusted completely, took the keys without hesitation. Years earlier, when Robert was still well, hed said, Were getting older. Lets put the house in Jamess name, so he can manage it. I didnt arguewhat parent doesnt love their child? So, the house and land went to James.
A week after the burial, James suggested a walk to clear my head. I never expected it to feel like a knife in the back. The car stopped at the edge of town, near an old, deserted bus stop. His voice was ice-cold: Get out here. My wife and I cant support you anymore. Youll have to manage on your own.
My ears rang, my vision blurred. I thought Id misheard. But his stare was firm, like he wanted to shove me out. I sat in shock on the roadside beside a little shop, clutching only a cloth bag with a few clothes. The home where Id lived, cared for my husband, and raised my childrengone. It was in his name now. I had no right to return.
People say, When you lose a husband, you still have your children. But sometimes, its like having none at all. My own son had cornered me.
What James didnt know? I wasnt empty-handed. Tucked in my pocket was my savings bookthe money Robert and I had stashed away over a lifetime, tens of millions of pesos. Wed hidden it well, never telling the kids or anyone else.
Robert once told me, People only show their best when theyve got something to lose. That day, I stayed silent. I didnt beg. I didnt reveal a thing. I wanted to see how Jamesand lifewould treat him.
The first night, I sat under the shops awning. The owner, Mrs. Wilkins, took pity and gave me a steaming cup of tea. When I told her about Robert and being abandoned, she sighed deeply. These days, love, stories like yours are too common. Kids care more about money than family.
I rented a small room, paying with interest from my savings. I was carefulno one knew about the money. I lived simply: worn clothes, cheap food, nothing flashy. Some nights, curled on my rickety bed, I missed my old homethe whir of the ceiling fan, the smell of Roberts roasted vegetables. The ache was sharp, but I told myself: as long as Im alive, I keep moving.
I adjusted. By day, I worked at the marketwashing veg, carrying loads, packing bags. The pay was low, but it didnt matter. I wanted to stand on my own, not rely on pity. They called me Kindly Granny Tess. Little did they know, back in my room, Id quietly check my savings book before hiding it away.
Then I bumped into an old friendRosie, my childhood best mate. Seeing me in a rented room, I just said life was hard after Robert. She pitied me and offered work at her familys café. I took it. The work was tough, but I had a roof and meals. More reason to keep my secret.
Meanwhile, gossip about James reached me. Hed moved his family into a big house, bought a new car, but had taken up gambling. A friend whispered, Ill bet hes already put the house up as collateral. My chest tightened, but I refused to reach out. Hed left me at that bus stop without a second thought. I owed him nothing.
One afternoon, as I cleaned the café, a well-dressed but tense man walked in. A drinking buddy of James. He eyed me. Youre his mum, yeah? I nodded. He leaned in, urgent. He owes us millions. Hes hiding. If you care, help him.
I was stunned. Ive got nothing, I said. He left, scowling. But it made me think. I still loved himyet the hurt ran deep. Was this karma? Was it fair?
Months later, James turned up at my doorgaunt, wrecked, eyes bloodshot. The moment he saw me, he dropped to his knees. Mum, I was wrong. Ive been wretched. Pleasehelp me one last time. Or my familys ruined.
My heart twisted. I remembered crying for him, the abandonment. But I also heard Roberts last words: No matter what, hes still our boy.
I went silent a long moment. Then I fetched the savings bookthe money my parents had left me, tens of millions. I laid it before him, voice steady. This is what they left me. I hid it because I feared you wouldnt respect it. Take it now. But rememberif you trample a mothers love again, no amount of money will ever let you walk with dignity.
James trembled as he took it. He wept like a child in the rain. Maybe hed change. Maybe not. But at least Id done my last duty as his mum. And the secret? Finally toldright when it needed to be.
