It was a rainy afternoon in the outskirts of Quezon province. Dolores, her back slightly bent and her cane tapping the muddy gravel, made her way slowly down the road. A faded cloth bag hung from her shoulder, holding a few medical papers and some loose pesos—barely enough for bread and salt.
At seventy, her legs no longer obeyed as they once had. Yet that day, she summoned every ounce of strength to visit her son, Ramón—the boy she had raised with endless sacrifice and love.
The doctor had warned her she needed urgent heart surgery, a cost far beyond her means as a poor widow. With nowhere else to turn, she sought help from her only son. Ramón had become a successful businessman in Quezon City, running a building materials shop, living in a large house, and parking a luxury car in front. Dolores believed that, no matter how busy life made him, her son would never abandon his mother.
The Visit
When she arrived, she stopped at the tall iron gates and pressed the bell. “Ting-ting.”
After a moment, the gate opened to reveal Ramón’s wife—a young woman with sharp eyes and a restless air.
“What do you need, Nanay?” she asked curtly, noting the elderly woman’s worn clothes.
Dolores forced a gentle smile. “I came to visit… and I need to speak with Ramón, dear.”
The wife said nothing and disappeared inside. Moments later, Ramón appeared, phone in hand, dressed neatly as if heading to a meeting.
“Mom, what brings you here? I’m really busy right now.”
Dolores nervously pulled out her medical report, her voice trembling.
“Son, the doctor says I need surgery soon. Could you lend me some money? When your brother sells the rice, I’ll pay you back.”
Ramón’s brow furrowed. He sighed, glancing toward his wife.
“Mom, things are tight at the business right now. I don’t have any cash. Go home for now and I’ll think of something.”
Her eyes filled with tears, but she forced calm.
“I just need a little, enough for the hospital. Please, son.”
After a pause, Ramón looked away and spoke softly,
“Alright, Mom. Here—take this packet of noodles for now. I’ll send you some money in a few days.”
He opened the car trunk, lifted a pack of instant noodles, and placed it in her hands, then gently guided her away.
“Go home quickly, Mom. It’s about to rain.”
Dolores lowered her head, clutching the packet against her chest as the heavy gate shut. Rain began to fall, mingling with the tears she tried to hide.
