Precious the Tourist

While sorting through her mother's belongings, she had found an old notebook containing years of handwritten records of school fees, examination fees and other expenses her mother had quietly paid for her. There were also records of money sent whenever she asked for help. But the last entry broke her. It read: "I don't know why my daughter thinks I stopped loving her. I have tried to reach her, but every conversation ends with an argument about money. I miss the little girl who used to run into my arms. "I am grateful for the woman who has stood by me in my old age. She is not my biological daughter, but she has never made me feel alone." She told me she had spent the entire night reading the notebook. Then she asked, "Did my mother ever say anything about me before she died?" I told her the truth. "She spoke about you almost every day. Even when she was in pain, she kept asking if you had called." There was silence before she burst into tears. I didn't know what else to say. Sometimes, we spend so much time measuring what our parents have done for us that we forget to ask what we have done to make their old age easier. I wish she had understood that before it was too late.