A Mother’s Last Gift

I had Alzheimers disease.

My son Albert said that instead of dragging on like this, half-dead and half-alive, I might as well die and be free.

My mind had always been foggy, but Alberts words pierced through me and jolted me awake.

How could I bear to be a burden to Albert, the child I had loved with my whole life?

Albert, my greatest wish as your mother is for you to be healthy and happy.

If I have become your burden, then I will go...

But why are you crying like that?

My mind could not tell east from west, north from south, let alone day from night.

Most of the time, I could not even clearly remember who I was, and only a few hazy sensations and sounds remained.

But today, my senses seemed to be shattered awake by the foul stench of urine after I wet my pants.

That filthy feeling, wet and sticky, mixed with a sharp ammonia smell, yanked me out of the haze.

My son Albert was crouching in front of me, using a warm towel to wipe the stains on my thighs little by little.

His movements were gentle and careful, so gentle that even someone half-dead like me felt warmth.

But his brows were twisted into two tight knots, as if they were about to snap.

Albert was thirty-five this year, and he was the greatest pride of my life.

Back then, when he was born, his cries were loud and strong, and I hoped he would make something of himself.

He really did not let me down, getting into a good college, landing a good job, and marrying a kind wife.

But what about the Albert in front of me now?

His hair was a mess, his eye sockets were sunken like two bottomless pits, and his stubble looked sharp enough to stab someone.

His whole body looked like a cabbage wilted by frost, even its leaves curled and yellowed.

It was all because I dragged him down.

I opened my mouth, but only a strange haah, haah sound came from my throat, like a dying fish.

I wanted to say Im sorry, and I wanted to tell him that I should not have gotten this sick and should not have caused him so much trouble.

But those words, and all the guilt surging in my heart, were stuck in my throat, and not a single one could come out.

My daughter-in-law Elise stood nearby and handed over a clean pair of pants.

There were also two huge dark circles under her eyes, and exhaustion showed clearly in her voice:

Albert, maybe... we should send Mom to a care home.

You havent had one full night of sleep in almost two weeks, and your body will break down if this keeps going.

Albert said nothing, but his hands suddenly paused.

With that pause, the despair he had kept bottled up for too long crashed through the dam of reason like a flash flood.

He suddenly threw the towel in his hand into the basin, sending water splashing everywhere, and cold droplets splattered all over my face.

A care home? You make it sound so easy!

Do you know how much that costs every month? Am I supposed to keep working or not?!

That voice carried despair, collapse, and the madness of someone forced to the edge of a cliff.

He did not look at Elise, nor did he look at me.

He only stared hard at the stain on the floor that had been soaked by the splashed water, the floor I had dirtied.

Then I heard that sentence.

He said, Mom is dragging on like this, half-dead and half-alive, so she might as well leave sooner!

For her and for us, it would be a release!

Release... It made my heart suddenly stab with pain.

I looked at my Albert, who once clung tightly to my leg and cried to stop me from leaving when I went out to buy groceries.

I looked at my Albert, who once lay beside my bed and fed me porridge spoonful by spoonful when I was sick with a fever.

Now, he was hoping I would die.

I had become the price of release.

I did not cry or make a scene, and only took advantage of the moment when he and Elise began arguing about the care home.

Silently, like an ant crushed underfoot, I moved toward the door little by little.

I put on those old leather shoes with worn-out toes, the pair Albert had bought for me, saying they were comfortable for older people.

I had to leave.

I could not be his burden anymore.

This family could only be released without me.

I left, sneaking out of the home I had lived in my whole life like a thief.

The door at home was not shut tight, and Elises suppressed sobs and Alberts heavy breathing drifted out from the living room.

I did not dare look back, because I was afraid that if I looked back and saw Albert chasing after me, my heart would soften and I would not be able to bear leaving.

The sky outside was gray, pressing down so hard that people could hardly breathe.

The wind scraped across my face like knives, cutting my skin again and again, and cutting the heart that had just been pierced by a blade.

I was cold, but that cold was nothing compared to the chill in my heart.

People on the street looked at me strangely, as if they were looking at a lunatic.

I lowered my head, stuffed my hands into the pockets of my worn cotton coat, and touched a hard, square little thing.

It was the photo of Albert as a child that I had secretly hidden away.

In the photo, he was grinning with a toothless mouth, smiling like a little sun, and his curved eyes were brighter than the stars in the sky.

Back then, he was so tiny, and he could not be away from me for even one minute.

I raised him, watched him go to school, start working, and get married.

I thought my mission was complete, and I could hold grandchildren in peace and enjoy a little happiness.

But I had grown old and gotten sick, and in turn, I had become his child...

A troublesome, filthy child who would never grow up.

I walked aimlessly, my legs as heavy as if they were filled with lead and as unsteady as if I were stepping on cotton, each step so heavy yet so hollow.

When I reached an intersection, the red light came on, and all the cars stopped.

I saw a little boy across the road, wearing a red coat and holding a doughnut, feeding it to his mother.

That pink color, under the gray sky, looked like a dancing flame, instantly lighting up a corner deep in my memory.

Suddenly, I really wanted to eat a doughnut.

When he was little, Albert loved them most too.

Every time I got paid, I would buy one for him.

He always let me take the first bite.

That sweet taste could warm me from my mouth all the way to my heart, and it was the most luxurious sweetness in those poor days.

My legs would not listen to me, and I walked straight toward the other side of the road.

I wanted to ask that little boy whether doughnuts still tasted the same as they used to.

Beep!

The piercing honk was so sharp it seemed like it would tear my eardrums apart.

I turned my head and saw only a blinding beam of white light, like the gates of hell opening, and like judgment descending from heaven.

Then my body became light.

The world went quiet.

I floated up, like a weightless feather, and like a wisp of smoke, rising lightly into the sky.

I looked down and saw a shriveled, skinny old woman lying in a pool of blood.

Her hair was gray and thin, her cotton coat hung loose on her body, and she was still tightly clutching a yellowed photo in her hand.

Even I was shocked, because that was... me?

I was dead.

But I did not feel released, nor did I feel light.

There was only one thought in my heart, like a beast trapped in a cage, screaming wildly

Albert!

If Albert could not find me, he would go crazy with worry!

He had only just said those words about letting me be released, and now that I had left, what would he think?

He would hate himself for the rest of his life!

I could not let him do that!

But where was Albert, and where was my home?

I could not remember...

I began to recall, desperately searching through my mind for memories.

I saw it.

I saw a little child spread his chubby arms and toddle toward me unsteadily.

That was Albert when he was only one year old.

Every step he took felt like he was stepping on the tip of my heart.

Albert, come here, come to me, I said as I crouched on the ground and opened my arms.

He grinned with his toothless mouth, giggling as he threw himself into my arms.

That small, warm body carried a milky scent, and it was the best smell I had ever known in my life.

Holding him was like holding my entire world.

The image shifted, and I stood at the gate of an elementary school, while six-year-old Albert clutched the corner of my shirt and refused to let go.

Mom, I dont want to go to school, I want to go home with you.

He cried so hard that the whole world seemed to shake, with snot and tears smeared all over his face.

My heart was sour and soft, but I still hardened myself and pried his fingers away one by one.

Be good, Albert. You need school to have a future, and Ill come pick you up tonight.

I watched him carry the brand-new backpack I had sewn by hand, looking back every few steps as he walked into the school gate, until that tiny figure disappeared around the corner.

I stood there for a long time, feeling empty inside.

Back then, I already knew that one day, my child would walk toward a distant place where I would not be.

The only thing I could do was pack his bags properly for him.

The river of memory kept surging forward.

It was that sweltering summer, and Albert was about to take his exam.

He wrote furiously in his room, while I sweated heavily in the kitchen.

I made his favorite braised beef ribs and baked lobster with cheese in different ways, afraid he would not get enough nourishment.

Outside the exam site, I stood under the blazing sun, anxiously looking around in the crowd.

What I clenched in my palm was not just sweat, but all my hopes for his future.

I hoped he would fly high and far, yet I was afraid the wind would be too strong and break his wings.

When he held his acceptance letter and rushed to me excitedly, shouting, Mom, Im going to college! I smiled and smiled, and then tears fell.

All the hardship of my life became worth it in that moment.

The final image froze at his wedding.

He wore a crisp suit, and Elise stood beside him with a smile as bright as flowers.

He walked up to me with a glass of wine, his eyes red:

Mom, thank you.

Without you, I wouldnt be who I am today.

From now on, Elise and I will take care of you together.

I looked at him, this boy who once needed me to hold him and coax him, this boy who once needed me to hold his hand while he walked, and he had truly grown up.

He had his own family and someone he wanted to protect for the rest of his life.

I solemnly placed him in another womans hands, and my mission seemed truly complete.

I smiled and drank that glass of wine, sweet and spicy, burning all the way into my heart.

Mom...

A faint murmur yanked me out of the warm memory.

I floated in the cold air, watching the police tape off the scene, watching my body be covered with a white sheet.

Like an invisible shadow, I floated back home.

The lights at home were still on, and the door was half-closed, so I drifted lightly inside.

The living room was a mess.

The basin Albert and I had knocked over during the argument earlier was still tilted on the floor, and the water stains marked the floor like an ugly scar.

Albert was pacing anxiously back and forth in the living room, already changed into clothes for going out, his face full of panic.

Elise grabbed his arm, and her voice carried a completely different urgency from before I left:

Dont panic yet! Maybe Mom just went downstairs to sit in the garden. Hasnt she done that before?

Its so cold outside, she cant have gone far!

Before was before! Is it the same now? Albert suddenly shook off her hand, his eyes bloodshot.

I just said that awful thing! She took it to heart! She must have taken it to heart!

The regret and fear in his voice pierced my soul like needles.

Then... then Ill call Mrs. Ford downstairs and ask around first. Dont rush out alone. Well split up and look, and well be faster.

Elise was also frightened by his state and started frantically scrolling through her contacts.

But Albert seemed not to hear her at all, grabbed the keys, and rushed out the door, his hoarse cry echoing from the stairwell:

Mom! Mom! Where are you?

I followed him, or rather, I was pulled by the huge grief and fear on him, rushing into the cold night with him.

He searched like he had gone mad.

The bench in the community garden where I used to love sitting in a daze was empty.

At the security booth at the community entrance, the guard shook his head and said he had not seen me leave during that time.

Albert was so anxious that sweat covered his forehead, and he kept describing what I was wearing to people, his words tumbling over each other.

The farmers market I often went to had already closed for the day, leaving only messy vegetable leaves swirling in the cold wind.

He stood in the middle of the empty market, looking around blankly, like a lost child.

He kept muttering mechanically, Where could she have gone? Where else could she go?

I floated behind him, looking at his helpless back, my heart aching beyond words.

I wanted to tell him, Albert, stop looking, Im right here.

But the wind passed through my body and carried away all my silent calls.

One hour, two hours...

Time passed little by little, the night grew deeper, and the cold grew heavier.

Alberts lips had turned purple from the cold, and his steps had grown unsteady.

But he was still searching, walking along every street and craning his neck to look into every dark alley.

When he dragged his lead-heavy legs back home again, it was already late at night.

Elise had also made every call she could make, to relatives, friends, and my old neighbors...

Not one person had seen me.

She sat on the sofa, holding her head in both hands, also on the edge of collapse.

When she saw Albert return empty-handed, the last trace of luck in her eyes went out.

Still... nothing? she asked, trembling.

Albert did not speak, and only walked to the doorway of my room.

Looking at the empty bed inside, he leaned against the doorframe and slid down little by little, like a puddle of mud.

Silence, deathly silence.

Suddenly, Elise stood up.

Her reddened eyes stared hard at Albert, and the emotions she had suppressed all night finally erupted in that moment.

I just dont understand! What exactly does she want? How have we wronged her?

Just because you said one angry sentence, she runs away from home?

Is she eight or eighteen? Doesnt she know shes sick?

Doesnt she know she could get lost or get into an accident if she goes out?!