24/07/2026
A Very Touching story that made me cry. This is for everyone; to parents , sons and daughters.
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*IT HURTS TO THINK ABOUT IT. Please recommend — You can’t even rely on your own children:*
I’m 57 years old. I am a mother who raised three children so that each of them would have their own families and be successful in their own lives.
I’m writing here because I know that many of my fellow parents will understand the heavy weight I’m carrying in my chest right now.
This is about how the family that my husband and I built for more than three decades is slowly falling apart — all because of money and the lack of gratitude from our very own flesh and blood.
My husband and I started with nothing.
When we were newly married, we could barely afford salt and dried fish just so we could buy milk for the kids.
My husband was a construction worker, and I went around the barangay selling anything I could sell.
My husband worked abroad for 15 years as a construction worker in Saudi, while I stayed here to guide the children.
Every single peso he sent, I gave to our children.
I endured not having new clothes or things just to make sure they finished school.
And it paid off:
My eldest is now an Engineer handling big projects.
My second child is a Bank Manager in a well-known bank.
My youngest is now a Registered Nurse in a famous private hospital.
My husband and I thought it was finally our time to rest and enjoy our old age.
But that’s when the most painful part of our lives began.
Last year, my husband suddenly had a stroke.
Because of this, we needed money for medicine, therapy, and daily expenses because neither of us has an active job anymore.
Our savings ran out in just the first month of his hospitalization.
I called each of my children one by one and asked them to visit their father.
One Sunday afternoon, all three of them came, with their spouses.
I told them:
“Children, we’re really struggling now with your Father’s medicine. Maybe we can help each other, even with just a small amount every month so his therapy and maintenance won’t stop.”
“Our savings for your Father are gone.”
Instead of a hug and understanding, I was met with deafening silence.
The wife of my eldest, the Engineer, was the first to speak:
“Ma, you know we’re paying for our new SUV. And the kids already started in an international school. Our expenses are really heavy right now.”
Then my second child, the Bank Manager, spoke.
He wears expensive barongs every day and always looks so presentable, but this is what he told me:
“Yes, Ma. We’re also saving for our vacation abroad this year. Why don’t we just sell that small piece of land in the province that Lolo left you, so you’ll have money to spend?”
I was heartbroken.
The land he was talking about is the only memory I have of my parents that my husband and I have taken such good care of.
He handles millions of pesos in his bank every day, but he can’t give anything for his own father’s medicine?
The most painful was the answer from my youngest, the Registered Nurse — the one we gave the biggest budget to when she was studying because nursing tuition is expensive.
She said without hesitation:
“Ma, that’s supposed to be your responsibility. Dad worked abroad for a long time, why didn’t you save for your retirement and health insurance? Why are you passing the obligation to us now?”
It felt like my heart was stabbed by what I heard.
My youngest, a professional who takes care of other people in the hospital to earn a living… but called her own father who raised her an “obligation” and a “burden.”
I looked at my husband sitting in his wheelchair on the side of the living room.
I saw tears slowly falling from his eyes as he listened to our children.
The man who toiled under the heat of the desert just so they could finish good degrees, is now treated like a rag that everyone threw away.
I stood up, even though my knees were shaking.
I said to them:
“Thank you. Thank you for your answers. Don’t worry, we won’t bother you anymore. When you were young and in school, we never once asked you how much we spent on you before we fed you and sent you to school. But now… I understand.”
I asked my siblings for help to sell part of the land I have in the province.
That’s what we’re using now for my husband’s maintenance.
My children rarely call or visit anymore — maybe out of shame, or maybe because they’re too busy with their own comfortable lives.
To my fellow parents: Don’t…
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CTTO
