20/10/2025
The Last Letter of a Parent with Nothing…
My dearest children,
I do not write today to remind you, but because I feel my voice slowly fading. Like the wind whispering through the corridors of an old house, unnoticed, uninvited, yet still there. I raised you with nothing but love, with my time, my hands, and a heart that never stopped giving.
You were never hungry, not for food and certainly not for love. I wiped away every tear, carried every dream as if it were my own and hushed every fear until you fell asleep.
But now, in the silent nights of my old age,
it is I who wait. For a knock that never comes. For a telephone that never rings. For a child who no longer asks… “Mother, Father, tell me how are you?” I sit alone in my room, surrounded by photographs of what once was. You smile at me from dusty frames, ghosts of a time when I was still needed. Now I am only a name on a birth certificate, a fading echo beneath the noise of your new lives.
I do not ask for money, nor for gifts, nor even for a place in your homes. I ask only this… remember me. Remember that I carried you
when your legs were too small to walk. Remember that I prayed for you while you slept. Remember that I traded my dreams so that yours could come true. I know life moves quickly. I know you have families of your own. But parents do not disappear like old toys once loved and left behind. We do not belong on shelves, waiting to be noticed only when dust has gathered. Is love then so temporary? Have I become a burden because my steps are slower now, because my hands tremble and my stories come out over and over the same repeated way?
If one day you wonder what became of me, do not ask the neighbors, do not search through records… Just read this letter.
Know and remember this…
I was here.
I loved deeply.
I waited long… And when waiting became too heavy, I learned to wait only on God and on everlasting rest.
To all who still have parents:
Do not forget them.
For one day - yes, one quiet day you too will grow old and you too will hope that someone remembers.
