Mother’s Day story about the Fake Love


On our Mother’s Day story, we lost the love and tender of our mothers in all of our lives, All of us are striving for money, but we forget the love and kindness.

Forgive me My Mother - Mother's Day story

Forgive me My Mother – Mother’s Day story

Tragic Mother’s Day story

Let me tell you the story. She was a widow, and she had one son. After she brought him up, taught him, and got him married—he decided to leave her and travel. She’s a widow, and he’s her only son. She told him, “Will you leave me alone?” He told her, “Forgive me my mother, and don’t worry. Please don’t stop my route to happiness and future.”

Of course the words, “My happiness and future” caused the mother to be quiet completely. He traveled, and she began sending him letters. At first, he used to respond, and he used to call her all the time. However, after a while he was really busy with his wife and children, and he stopped answering.

How harsh could he be? He left her alone, she didn’t travel with them, he didn’t stay back for her because of the conditions of life… but he also doesn’t ask about her? No call to her? To the people who travel out of the country, and forget their mother—or not even traveling out of the country—sometimes people live in a city and she lives in the near city and sometimes he can spend a month not asking about her.

That’s not fair. The mother thought of a smart way to have her son connect with her. She sent him a letter, because she knows her son loves money, and told him, “My beloved son, I inherited a big piece of land from my uncle. I got a lot of money. If you need anything, send me a letter, and I’ll send you what you need.” Unfortunately, the plan worked. He started sending her letters all over again. That’s very harsh. He’d send her a letter, he’d be very kind and friendly, and at the end he’d ask for what he wanted. She wasn’t upset, instead she was happy that the only hope she had was to keep in touch with her son.

Our mothers sacrifice their lives for us, and at the end they have no dreams in life but us. She continued not being upset, as long as he kept in touch with her. Every now and then, he’d ask her for things for himself. He would also add some words filled with emotions and love. At the end of the letter, he began asking for money for such and such reasons.

After about 6 months of letters and the money she sent him and being connected together, all of a sudden all the letters from the mother stopped. He sent her a letter asking for money, and she didn’t answer. He sent her another letter, and she didn’t answer. He called her on the phone, at one of her neighbors because when he called her she didn’t answer. Her neighbors answered him and told him, your mother passed away. He thought about going home quickly, because he wanted to take the rest of the inheritance, and also give condolences and sympathy.

When he arrived, he was surprised to find out that the house she lived in, and the house he grew up in was theirs, and that a man he didn’t know lived there. He told him, “Sir, who are you?” He said, “I’m the one who bought the house from your mother. Your mother sold me the house 6 months ago.” He asked the neighbors, “Where did my mother live?” They told him, “She took a rental apartment downstairs, in the basement of the house. It was a tiny apartment which she continued living in during her last days. She kept selling her gold, and sometimes the things she owned at home. However, we didn’t know what she did with the money.” The young man began weeping. He told them, “I knew, but I didn’t do anything.”

He wept, and I believe he will weep a lot. I believe he will weep for the rest of his life. She died, while he was far from her, and he never asked about her.

I also have some advice, to the young men and women. Please, your mother and father, hold on to them with all you have. Make them happy, ask about them, make them content, and never break their hearts so you can be guaranteed a smile of hope in your life.


 

The Mother’s Day story ~ By/ DR. Amr Khaled

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