Due to a family argument, I decided to move away from my family, it took me approximately eight years without contacting any of them; that situation was unpleasant, misunderstandings, intrigues, gossip and slander towards me, describing me as a disturbed and bad person. One Christmas day one of my brothers contacted my wife and told her that my mother was in poor health, she did not want to eat and had been hospitalized because she had decompensated, I immediately went to the hospital where they had her. When I saw her in that emergency room I felt that the world was paralyzed under my feet, I could only squeeze her hands and cry, I could not find the words, she only looked at me smiling while asking me if you are going to take me home. That was all I wanted to go back to her house because since she was sick she was in a brother's house; if you can call it that, because he is the one who has more economic possibilities. Even so I told the other brother to take her to his house so that it is easier for me to take care of her because of the distance of our homes, but No He is not going to bother his wife because she is not going to take care of her, because of that the discussions that I mentioned at the beginning arose; I could not believe what I observed the owner of the house cannot return to her home because that stranger simply occupies a privileged place in my mother's house.
I suggested to my mother to come and live with me, she refused, she told me with a glint of desperation in her eyes I just want to go to my house, she repeated it more than twice. I spoke again with my selfish brother and he told me no, I don't think you want to keep the house. I told him how can you be so miserable, don't you realize that she may be about to die and she wants to, she needs to go back to her house to be in it for the last time. I told her in case you didn't know or ignore it, the only house we have safe is the cemetery. However. We don't know what fate has in store for us. He turned his back on me, and left me talking to myself. Mom was discharged and returned to the house where she had been for more than ten years,
I understood why she wanted to return to her home, there are no rules there, everyone does whatever they want, there is no respect, much less attention. Then I wondered how my brother, my mother's spoiled brother, to whom she dedicated part of her life, when she was healthy, could not be attentive to her, he does not take care of her, he is selfish, just like his wife and children; I felt like the worst son than all of them for having been absent. I wanted to make up for lost time, I began to take care of her in terms of feeding, grooming and distraction. One day she said to me in a trembling voice, "Thank you for everything you have done for me. A few days later she suffered another relapse and died. I still see those brothers and sisters, hypocritical nephews and nieces crying inconsolably as if they loved and cared for her as she deserved. Even my memory suffers from remorse because I did not act with maturity, I should not have stayed away, and I did not fulfill her wish to return home.
Life is a learning and unlearning; many times the definition of family, catalogued as the basis of society, is not so accurate. I do not want to distort that conception; but in my particular case, my family is not the base, foundation, much less a good example for society. As I can carry the DNA of these people so selfish and wrong. They only think about their own well being, they have a wrong concept of life; you are not always young, one day without realizing it you will be sixty years old. And time is implacable, it depends on you, on your actions, how your last days on the earthly plane will end. Bad decisions have unexpected and regrettable endings.