When You Wanted to Hold My Hand

Mornings for a working mother are always hectic.

"Jun, hurry up! We're going to be late!"

Holding large bags for daycare and my business bag, I hurriedly put on my shoes.

My son clumsily slipped into his small shoes and timidly said,

"Mommy... can we hold hands?"

"What are you doing? Come on, hurry!"

I failed to notice the tiny hand he reached out. As I rushed out the door, I didn't see the sadness in his eyes as the door closed behind me.

When we arrived at the daycare, I quickly handed Jun over to his teacher.

"Mommy... have a nice day..."

"Sorry! Please take care of him!"

I missed his gentle, hesitant farewell as I dashed off to work.

After rushing through my day, I hurried back to the daycare.

"Mommy, welcome back! Guess what happened today—"

"Sorry, Jun, hold on a second! I have to gather your things..."

I cut off his cheerful greeting, distracted by packing up to leave.

"Thank you, teacher!"

Grabbing Jun's hand, I quickly exited the daycare.

In the car, Jun quietly murmured from the backseat,

"Mommy... can you listen now?"

"Let's see, I still have work to finish at home... maybe I'll heat up frozen food for dinner..."

"Mommy..."

"Hm? Oh, just wait a minute!"

Even at home, I continued to rush around, preparing dinner while working simultaneously.

Jun ate alone beside me while I absentmindedly picked at my food, focused on my tasks.

My husband returned just as Jun was heading to bed.

"Goodnight, Jun!"

"Goodnight, Mommy... Daddy..."

I didn't even look up from my computer.

Jun stood for a moment, hugging his penguin plush, staring at me.

"Mommy...?"

"What? Oh... goodnight!"

I glanced briefly in his direction before returning to the screen.

He left quietly, wanting to say more.

The next morning, Jun seemed listless.

"Are you feeling sick?"

He silently shook his head. No fever, I assumed he was fine and rushed him to daycare because of an important meeting.

I didn't realize then that Jun was pretending to be okay, not wanting to inconvenience me.

After three in the afternoon, I received an urgent call from the daycare.

"Jun collapsed! He's been taken to the hospital."

My husband and I rushed to the hospital room, finding Jun lying weakly in bed.

"Mommy..."

"Jun... I'm sorry... I didn't notice you weren't feeling well."

No, that's not true—I did notice, but I chose to ignore it, rationalizing it away.

My heart filled with regret and self-blame.

Jun spoke softly,

"Mommy... I'll listen to the doctor, so you can go to work..."

His words broke my heart. Did he believe my job mattered more to me than him?

As I struggled to speak, Jun whispered,

"But Mommy... you never held my hand when I needed you to... so today, can you hold my hand?"

At that moment, memories flooded back—Jun's tiny hand reaching out, his quiet farewells, his unfinished stories...

Realizing the harshness of my actions, I trembled as I grasped his small hand.

"I'm so sorry, Jun... Mommy is sorry..."

Jun smiled faintly, closing his eyes gently.

Slowly, I felt his fingers losing their grip...