He was Alexander Alice. Alexander Alice was born into a family already struggling under the weight of hardship. His father, a man of ambition yet reckless in his decisions, had always lived on edge, gambling away the family's limited resources. His mother, kind and nurturing woman,did everything she could to hold the family together.she worked tirelessly to make sure Alexander had what he needed, despite the growing tension and the emotional toll caused by her husband's addiction to gambling.
Alexander's earliest memories were filled with joy and warmth,as his mother would tell him stories of bright future. But as he grew older, the shadow of his father's gambling began to loom over their household. He would often overhear arguments, his father's voice thick with alcohol, pleading for money to cover his latest losses. Alexander saw his mother 's health began to deteriorate under the stress of managing a home on the brink of collapse. Within a one week, her health deteriorated and she had to be hospitalized.
The dim light of the hospital room flickered as the steady beep of heart monitor seemed to be the only sound in the silence between them. Alexander sat by his mother's bed, his hand resting lightly on hers, the warmth of her skin fading in contrast to cold sterile environment around them. He had sat like this for hours, even days, without speaking.
"Mom" his voice was shaky, uncertain. " I am here" she opened her eyes. Thank god. She turned her head slightly towards him, her eyes unfocused but still holding a trace of recognition. A weak smile pulled at the corners of her lips, but it was tired, sad smile.
"My great Alexander" her voice was barely a whisper, dry. He wanted to say that mom please don't call me like this because it makes me feel like Alexander the great. But he just wanted to hear that.
"I.....I am sorry," she said, her words coming in broken gasps. "I never wanted to leave you.... like this. I couldn't ...be more.... for you. You.....you deserve more."
"No.No, you don't have to say that." His voice broke slightly, and he quickly wiped his eyes with the back of his hands.
"You were.....all i ever needed,mom," the words slipping out before he could stop them.
"All i ever needed was you." Tears rolled down Alexander's face as he held her hand tightly.
"I don't know how I will do it without you, mom. I don't know how I will Keep going." She gave him a faint smile." You will find way, my son. You always have."
"Call me Alexander" sudden interrupt,that was request yeah may be last.she smiled,
Sad, weak, smile.
"Ok, My great Alexander." She looked at her son,she wouldn't be able to celebrate his birthday. He was in age of thirteen that made her more worried about her son.
"Listen to me son," she said with quiet urgency. Her fingers trembled as she reached for his hand, the warmth still there, though faint.
"You have to understand something..... women—your mother, your sister, any woman you love —they need to be respected. Truly respected."
"You don't have to love them perfectly, Alexander." She continued, her words slow and deliberate, but there was strength in them.
"Just respect them. In the way you speak to them,
in the way you listen to them— hear them."
"I stayed too long with your father ..... because I thought love meant giving in, always making it work. But respect..... respect is what holds things together." She closed her eyes for a moment, as if gathering the strength to say her next words.
"When a woman speaks, listen—listen with your heart, not just with your ears. Don't silence her because you think you better know. Every woman deserves to be heard, to have her feelings honoured." Alexander nodded slowly, his eyes stinging. He had never heard his mother speak with such clarity, such conviction. It wasn't just advice—it was declaration of everything, she had wished for herself and for him.
"I will,mom," he said softly, his voice thick with emotion.
"I promise you, I will respect women the way you've deserved."
"Words, Alexander.... they hold power," she began slowly, each word coming with great effort,as if it were exhausting her to speak.
"The things we say can hurt....or they can heal.
When I was younger....I thought that being loud, being sharp with words, would make people listen.I thought it would make me heard.but all it did was build walls between me and the ones I loved.And now, looking back,I see that...the loudest voices are often the ones that leave the most damage behind."
Alexander's heart tightened as he listened. He had never known his mother to speak so openly about her regrets,her pains. It was as if, in this final moment, she was offering him the keys to understand the part of her life that he had never seen—one filled with humility, with unspoken sacrifice.