March __, 2015, _____ – 00:00 AM/PM
Raining heavily
"Mom, for god sake! Can you please LET GO OF MY ARM!?" Adan's voice was laced with frustration as he tried to pry his hand away from her grip. His glare darted toward the caretaker, silently begging them to intervene.
But his mother—frail and worn, her wrinkled hands trembling—refused to release him. Her bony fingers clung to him with a strength that shouldn't have been possible for someone so fragile. Her tear-streaked face crumpled further as she wailed incoherently.
"Aaa... aaa... no... no... aaa....my baby..."
Her voice cracked with desperation, the incoherent sobs getting louder and louder
"Mom, stop! You're making this harder than it has to be!" he snapped, his tone sharper than he intended.
But she didn't let go. She clung to his arm as if it were her lifeline, as if letting go would send her plummeting into an abyss. Her cries grew louder, blending with the relentless downpour outside.
Adan's patience snapped. With one final pull, he yanked himself free. She stumbled slightly, her frail body barely steadying itself.
The caretaker rushed forward, gently gripping her shoulders, trying to lead her back inside.
Adan didn't look back as he strode to his car.
He didn't stop. He drove through the elderly care home's gate, the weight of her sobs echoing in his ears like a haunting melody.
*****
March 24, 2007, Monday – 10:05 PM
'Huh...Yeah...That memory...My mother cried...
That was the day I left her there'
The guilt hit him like a tidal wave, crashing into his chest and leaving him breathless. The memory he had long buried in guilt pierced through his mind like a dagger, sharp and unforgiving.
'I forgot that memory... I buried it. I didn't want to face it. My poor mother. If I'd just visited her once... just once... maybe she wouldn't have died lonely.'
Warm tears streamed down his cheeks.
How could I have done that to her?
He stumbled out of bed, rushing into the living room. His eyes searched frantically until they landed on her.
She was there, sitting by the table, looking so much younger than he remembered—her features soft and kind, her hair pulled back neatly. She looked tired, but her smile radiated warmth.
His chest tightened. She's beautiful... and I broke her heart.
"Adan? My poor son? Why are you crying?"
Her voice was soft, filled with concern and a love so pure that it made his knees buckle.
'No... don't look at me like that. Don't be kind to me. If you knew what I'd done... if you knew how I left you... you'd hate me. Hate me, Mother... but please, love me again.'
The tears came harder now, unstoppable, as he sank to his knees. His shoulders shook as sobs racked his body.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice cracking. "I'm sorry. Forgive me... forgive me..."
Her hands—those same hands that had clung to him in desperation—were now wiping his tears away. She knelt down, pulling him into her arms without hesitation.
The warmth of her embrace was overwhelming, like a balm on his broken soul. He buried his face into her shoulder, gripping her tightly, as though she might disappear if he let go.
"Hush, my son," she murmured, stroking his hair gently. "There's nothing to forgive."
But there was. He knew there was.
'Forgive me....Forgive this ungrateful son of yours'