A Mother’s Final Wish

In the race of life, we often forget the very hands that held us when we couldn’t stand, the hearts that beat for us before we even understood the world. This is a story of one such mother, whose silent sacrifices were only realized when her son heard her final wish.

Shafiq was a well-educated and successful young man working in a top firm in the city. After the death of his father, his elderly mother was left alone. For a while, he tried to care for her, but soon, life got in the way. Work responsibilities increased, his own family demanded time, and slowly, he began to feel that looking after his aging mother was too much of a burden.

Then came the decision.

“There’s a reputable old-age home in the city,” he told himself, “They have trained nurses, proper care, medical support—she’ll be better off there.”

And just like that, his mother was taken to the old-age home.

In the beginning, Shafiq would visit her often. Weekly calls, occasional visits, sending fruits and medicines—it all looked good from the outside. But time, as always, wore things down. The visits became monthly, then rare. The calls turned into short check-ins, and soon, even those stopped unless there was a reminder from the old-age home.

His mother, however, never complained. She never expressed hurt. Her silence, however, held stories of loneliness and longing.

One day, Shafiq received a call from the old-age home.

“Mr. Shafiq, please come immediately. Your mother is critically ill. It may be her last moments.”

The phone nearly dropped from his hands. A wave of guilt, panic, and sorrow swept over him. Images from the past began flashing before his eyes—the nights she stayed awake when he was sick, the mornings she packed his lunchbox, the sacrifices she made silently.

He rushed to the old-age home.

There she was—frail, weak, but peaceful. Her body had shrunk, but her eyes still held the same warmth.

He took her hand in his and said softly, “Ammi... is there anything you need? Should I bring you something?”

She looked at him with calm eyes, then replied in a tired, slow voice:

“Beta, please place a cooler here in this room... it gets very hot, and the people living here suffer a lot. Also, have the broken windows fixed, so that the cold doesn’t trouble them during winters. Plant a few trees in the yard... people can sit under their shade and feel a little comfort. Keep good food in the fridge... there were so many nights I slept hungry.”

Shafiq was stunned.

“You’re about to leave this world, and you're worried about all this? Why didn’t you ever complain to me before?”

Her lips curved into a faint smile. Her eyes sparkled for a moment as she said:

“My son, I have learned to live without comfort—heat, cold, hunger... they don’t bother me anymore. But I fear the day when your children might bring you here in your old age. I don’t want you to suffer. I raised you with all the love and care I had, and I pray that when you're old, you are treated better than I was.”

Shafiq’s eyes filled with tears. His mother—who had every right to complain—chose compassion. She asked for no apology, gave no blame. Instead, she left him with a lesson—a truth that shook his soul.

She passed away that night.

But something inside Shafiq changed forever.

In her memory, he transformed the old-age home. He installed new coolers, had the windows repaired, planted trees in the garden, and ensured the fridge was always filled with nutritious food. He also funded a program for elderly care at the home. No elder would sleep hungry, sit in heat, or suffer in cold again—not under his watch.

And whenever someone asked, “Why are you doing all this?” he would simply say:

“For a mother… who, even in her last breath, thought of others’ comfort before her own.”