No, her son was alive and well, everything was fine with him. He was just busy working, had a young wife, and talking to his mother seemed boring to him… There was his wife, his friends, his colleagues…
He loved his mother, but he never found the time to call her. It happens—nothing terrible. And she wasn’t the type to intrude. Why bother him if everything was going well?
But she missed him and felt lonely. She worked as a nurse, taking care of young patients. She loved children very much. In the evenings, she would return home and sometimes look through old photos of her son, Daniel.
She would speak to him softly—just a mother’s little oddity. Every night, she prayed for him. She would reread his messages—there weren’t many. A greeting on International Women’s Day and for her birthday.
There were also a few holiday pictures for Christmas and New Year’s, stored in her old phone. “Dear Mom, I wish you happiness, health, and many more years of life!”—these were the kinds of messages she received.
And one day, she finally called her son. She apologized for bothering him and asked if he could stop by—she had bought him a gift.
He was surprised: “Why, Mom? I have everything I need! I was planning to visit you anyway, but I just haven’t found the time. Alright, I’ll come by, not for the gift, just to see you!”
He truly was a good son. He came three days later in the evening—for just a minute. He even brought a cake. He didn’t come inside, just handed the cake to her: “Here, this is for you!”
His mother also handed him her gift. He gasped in surprise. It was a very expensive iPhone, almost the latest model—one that cost an enormous amount of money.
She had saved up for it for a whole year. She bought nothing for herself, saved on everything, and finally, she had managed to buy this gift for her son. She handed him the elegant box with the phone and smiled brightly—she was so happy that Daniel had finally stopped by. She hugged him, kissed him, and gave him the gift.
Then she quietly said, responding to his astonished words: “This is for you, Daniel. You know, I’ve been feeling a little sick, and soon they will admit me to the hospital.”
“Call me sometimes, okay? And if you can’t call, send me a message. And if you can’t even do that, at least send a picture, alright? But if you don’t, that’s okay too.”
“I just thought… you always have your phone in your hands. So when you take it, you’ll remember me. And that will be enough for me. I just want to know that you still remember me.”
A week later, she was gone… And her son was left with that expensive phone, almost the latest model. And every time he picked it up, he cried.
Because he had rarely called. Rarely written. He always thought there would be plenty of time to spend together.
That he could always just tap “Mom” and hear her quiet, dear voice. He only needed to find her name in his contacts—she would pick up! There was still so much time for conversations and messages…
But there wasn’t as much time as he had thought. And if a person doesn’t call, doesn’t write, doesn’t ask for anything, and we keep postponing our calls or visits—it doesn’t mean they will always be within reach.
One day, there will come a time when we hear the cold response: “The subscriber is unavailable.” Even if we have the most expensive and modern phone in our hands…
