The 62-year-old widowed mother came to live with her daughter after her husband died, taking care of the grandchildren, but one day she had to quietly leave after witnessing…

“Every night I saw her silhouette standing by the window, quietly looking out at the small road where old eagles rustled the leaves. The yellow light shone on her thin face, her wet eyes… No one asked, she didn’t say anything. Until one day, she packed her things and quietly walked out of the house without a word of goodbye.”

After her husband’s funeral, Lola Cely , 62, moved in with her youngest daughter, Joy, to a newly built condominium in Taguig City , Metro Manila. The apartment is small but bright and clean, a far cry from the dilapidated bungalow she lived in with her husband for more than 30 years in their hometown of Pangasinan.

Joy works as a marketing staff for a large company, busy from early morning to late at night. Joy’s husband , Ben, is a construction engineer, often  traveling for work  . Their daughter Mika is only 5 years old, naughty and hyperactive. The small family lacks a caring hand – and the appearance of Mrs. Lola Cely is considered the perfect solution.

“I’m glad you came here with me and your wife,” Joy hugged her mother on the first day she moved in. “I feel so secure with you taking care of Na.”

Mrs. Lola Cely  nodded, her lips smiling slightly. She didn’t say much, just quietly cleaned the house, cooked each meal, made a cup of hot milk for baby Mika before going to bed, just like she used to take care of her children before. Even though her knees started to hurt, even though her hands trembled when holding the hot pot of soup, she was still dedicated, not complaining a word.

Every morning, she wakes up before the alarm clock to prepare breakfast for the whole family. Little Mika clings to her like glue, calling her “grandma” hundreds of times a day. In the evening, when Joy and Ben come home, the hot soup is ready, the house is clean, and little Mika has taken a bath.

At first, everyone was happy. Joy often posted pictures of her mother on Facebook with the caption:  “Thank you, Mom – the wonderful woman of my life.”  Anyone who looked at her could see that Mrs. Hien was having a peaceful old age with her children and grandchildren.

But after just a few months, things gradually changed…

One afternoon, Joy came home earlier than usual and opened the door to see Lola Cely sitting there arranging baby Mika’s clothes. For some reason, Joy said:

“Oh my god, I told you not to dirty Mika’s clothes with mine! You do it every time!”

Mrs. Lola Cely was embarrassed and quickly apologized. That evening, she quietly ate less than usual.

In the following days, the small comments started to become more frequent: “Mom, the soup you cooked today was a bit salty.” “Why did you let Mika watch the phone so much?” “Mom washed white clothes with colored clothes, I have to wash them all again.”

Although her words were not harsh,   Joy’s eyes gradually became uncomfortable. Anh Hung appeared indifferent, rarely talking to his mother-in-law, only nodding when necessary. Once, she heard a soft whisper in the bedroom:

“I tried to hire a maid and then my mother went back to her hometown. But live like this… I also find it too mysterious.”

Ms. Lola Cely knew, but did not blame. She used to be a mother, and she used to be troubled when taking care of her sick mother-in-law. But when I was old, I fully sympathized with the loneliness of a person who had lost her husband, now like a surplus in the middle of her daughter’s house.

One winter night, baby Mika had a high fever. Mrs. Lola Celyeagerly ran into Thao’s room to call, and was scolded by Joy:

“Oh my God, Mom, I told you to follow the doctor. Mom keeps messing up! I’m so stressed!”

She was stunned. Returning to her room, she sat by the bed, tears falling down her hands. The room was cramped, just enough for a single bed and an old wooden cabinet, becoming more suffocating than ever.

One morning, Ms. Lola Cely woke up earlier than usual. She folded some of her old clothes into a cloth bag, and left a short letter on the table:

“Mom went for a few days. Don’t worry. Mom is fine. It’s just… I feel that I should let my children live more comfortably. I love you and baby Mika very much. “Mother”

She didn’t cry. She only looked back at the last bright apartment that she thought would be a place to rest in old age. No one knows where she went. Only little Mika, every night, still stood by the window and called softly:

“Grandma, are you back?”

Three days after Ms. Lola Cely left, the small apartment suddenly became strangely quiet.

There was no sound of opening the door early, there was no breakfast prepared on the table, and no one picked up baby Mika from kindergarten. Joy had to hurry to apply for leave, work remotely while managing to take care of her children and clean the house. Hero also began to get irritated because of the unfamiliar mess.

“It’s just housework that I lament all day,” he said harshly when he saw Joyholding her child while washing dishes.

Joy pursed her lips and didn’t answer. At night, when Mika had a slight fever and called in her dream: “Grandma, don’t go…”, she sat in awe by the bed, tears pouring out at any time.

Two weeks later, Thao decided to call her hometown to Aunt Ba – Ms. Lola Cely’s sister – to ask if her mother would come back there. Aunt Ba said that she couldn’t see it, and her voice also began to worry.

“Sister Hai, you have been living very quietly since you died. Now I leave without telling anyone, I don’t know which way to go.”

Joy began to panic. She searched for each address of her mother’s old acquaintance’s house, asked neighbors in Bac Giang, and even posted a post looking for someone online. But absolutely no one knew about it.

The house suddenly became cold, not only because of the lack of a cook, but also because of the lack of something intangible – the silent but warm presence of the mother.

One early autumn afternoon, Joy received a call from a social welfare center in Thai Nguyen province. The voice of a middle-aged officer rang out:

“Hello, Joy . This is an old lady named Lola Cely. She was just brought back from a roadside restaurant, exhausted from overwork. In her pocket is a small piece of paper with her name and phone number. Can you come up and confirm her identity?”

 Joy was stunned. She had never expected her mother, who was thin but always healthy, to be wandering around like this. She immediately took a leave of absence and set off with Ben and baby Mika.

When we arrived, Lola Cely was resting in a small hospital room. She was thin, her limbs were thin, her eyes were sunken. When she saw her daughter and grandchildren, she smiled – a gentle smile, like the wind at the end of the season.

“Are you there?” she whispered.

 Joy hugged her mother, crying like a child. Little Mika also jumped into her mother’s arms, chirping: “Grandma, come back to me… Grandma is a good girl, she won’t play anymore…”

On the way home, Lola Cely sat in the middle of the back seat, holding her granddaughter tightly. No one said much, only Ben’s eyes stared desperately through the rearview mirror.

The small family gradually changed. After Lola Cely returned, Joy asked to switch to remote work, spending more time at home. At each meal, she no longer left her phone on the table. She asked her mother: “Mom, how did you feel about cooking today?” – and listened sincerely. Hung also took the initiative to start a conversation, asking his mother to show him how to cook sour soup in the old days.

Lola Cely, though still quiet and calm, has learned not to take it all in. She has started taking morning walks, exercising with seniors at the local park, and occasionally telling Mika bedtime stories.

One day, Joy found her mother’s old notebook, in which were scribbled notes:

“That’s what being a mother is like. Even though it hurts, I still just want my child to live a full life. But sometimes, love shouldn’t be a silent presence. If I keep silent, I won’t know when I’m hurt…”

 Joy closed the book and hugged it tightly. Outside the window, Lola Cely was sitting and picking vegetables with little Mika. The golden afternoon sun shone on her salt-and-pepper hair, illuminating the gentleness of a mother who had been through many storms – and had chosen to stay, when her heart still had room for forgiveness and love.