In 1980, my mother left me 5 taels of gold and only said one sentence, I hated her to the core. It wasn’t until 40 years later that I hired a maid to come to my house that the whole truth was revealed.

In 1980, in a small town in Batangas, when I was only 10 years old, my mother suddenly left. She didn’t say why, just put 5 taels of gold in my hand, and whispered one sentence:

– “Anak, you have to live well, one day you will understand.”

Before I could ask more, she disappeared behind the red dirt road leading out of the barrio. That day, my father died early, I had no siblings, I was alone like an orphan. Growing up for years with the gossip of the neighbors, I struggled to study and work, carrying in my heart a hatred: why did my mother have the heart to abandon me?

Forty years have passed, in my old age, I have built a small business in Quezon City, but my heart has never calmed down. I often tell myself:
“If I meet you again one day, I will look straight into your eyes and ask: Do you still consider me your daughter?”

An unexpected encounter

One afternoon, my health was getting worse, I hired a maid to take care of the house. The old woman walked in, her hair white, her appearance exhausted, but her eyes looked at me as if she was about to cry.

I frowned, coldly asking:
– “What is your name? Can you do the job?”

The old woman answered with a trembling voice, her voice hoarse:
– “I… I just asked to stay close by to cook for you. You don’t have to pay me…”

I was stunned. That voice… was familiar. I looked more closely: her hands were shaking, her gait was limping. And then… my heart stopped beating – it was my mother.

Confession after 40 years

She burst into tears, fell to her knees, and choked:
– “Anak… I’m sorry. That year I left because I was forced by others. If I had stayed, you would have lost your life. The 5 taels of gold I gave you… were all I could keep for you. For the past 40 years, I’ve been watching you from afar… it’s just that I didn’t have the courage to admit that I was your mother.”

I was shocked, my whole body trembling. All those years of hatred were shattered in an instant. I was humiliated, choked with bitterness – it turned out that the person I had blamed all my life was the one who had silently paid the price for me for half my life.

In the quiet house in Quezon City, the cries of mother and daughter blended together… belated but heartbreaking.

Part 2: The Journey of Healing and Facing the Past
The First Days Together

After the fateful day when I realized that the maid was my mother, my heart was in turmoil. All the resentment that had accumulated for 40 years suddenly turned into a jumble of emotions that were hard to name: anger, love, and sorrow.

My mother asked to stay, only to do chores, but I did not allow it. I arranged for her to have a small room in the house in Quezon City, we ate together in the morning, and in the afternoon I took her for a walk around Luneta Park.

At first, the awkwardness was still there. But each meal, each story gradually healed the rift. I realized that my mother still remembered every detail of my childhood: the shirt I liked, the bamboo hammock in front of the house in Batangas, even the scar on my knee from when I fell when I was 7 years old.

Unveiling the Truth

One evening, my mother tremblingly recounted the whole story from the past.

That day, after my father passed away, my paternal relatives – especially my paternal uncle – forced my mother to sign a paper to sell the ancestral land in Batangas. If she did not agree, they threatened to “deal with” both mother and child. My mother tried to fight back, but was eventually falsely accused of taking money from the family and kicked out of the house. Before leaving, my mother only had time to give me 5 taels of gold and the words “live well”.

For decades, my mother lived temporarily in Cavite, working for hire everywhere. Every time she returned to her old village, she only dared to stand far away and watch me go to school, never having the courage to come.

After hearing this, my tears kept falling. All the hatred disappeared, leaving only pity for the woman who was oppressed by her own relatives to the point of having to leave her child.

Facing the relatives

One day, I decided to take my mother back to Batangas, the place we had left for 40 years.

When the mother and son entered the family church during the reunion, everyone was stunned. The uncle from back then was now old, with gray hair, but his eyes still avoided. Some relatives whispered:

“Does she dare to come back?”

“They left, how can she have the face now…”

I stepped forward and calmly said:
“For so many years, I grew up in contempt because I was called an ‘abandoned child’. But today, I want to make it clear: my mother did not abandon me. It was the coercion and profit of some people that forced her to leave.”

I put the old documents my mother kept – evidence of the forced sale of land, letters she had written but never sent – ​​on the table. The atmosphere was deathly silent.

The uncle sat down, unable to refute. Some of them bowed their heads, some shed tears.

Belated recognition

From that day on, the bad reputation of “a mother who abandoned her child” was gradually erased. Neighbors and relatives began to look at her with different eyes: both guilty and respectful.

Mom just smiled gently:
“I don’t need anyone to apologize. It’s enough for everyone to understand the truth and let my son hold his head high.”

I held her skinny hand tightly and softly replied:
“Mom, I don’t hate you anymore. From now on, you and I will continue together. No one, no one can separate us anymore.”

A new chapter

After 40 years, my mother and I were finally able to sit next to each other in the very ancestral house where she was banished years ago. The wounds could not be erased in a day, but love and truth opened a new chapter.

Mom looked up at the Batangas sky, tears rolling down:
“It’s too late, but I have you back.”

As for me, in that moment, I felt my heart lighten for the first time, as if I had been given back a whole life of peace.