The following days were pure chaos.
I searched for work at several companies around Guadalajara, but all of them offered far lower salaries. Some didn’t even call me back.
Then I remembered something that brought me a bit of comfort.
My money.
For years I had been sending almost all of my salary to my mother.
Between savings, bonuses, and overtime… it had to be close to five million pesos.
I thought:
“It doesn’t matter. Even if it takes time to find another job, I still have that money.”
So I took a bus to the small town where my mother lived.
The trip felt longer than usual.
When I arrived, I found her sitting in the patio, peeling nopales for lunch.
— Mom — I said — I came for the money I gave you to keep.
She slowly lifted her eyes.
— What money?
I thought she was joking.
— The money I’ve been sending you all these years. My savings. Nearly five million.
My mother stayed silent for a few seconds.
Then she sighed.
— Son… that money is gone.
My heart nearly stopped.
— What do you mean it’s gone?
— Your younger brother wanted to start a business. I lent him some. Then your uncle had trouble with a debt… I helped him too. After that I repaired the house.
I stared at her.
— How much is left?
She lowered her gaze.
— Nothing.
The word hit my chest like a hammer.
— Nothing? — I repeated with a trembling voice.
— It was family money — she replied. — Besides, your wife is gone now. Why did you need to save so much anyway?
I don’t remember clearly what happened next.
I only recall my legs suddenly giving way.
I collapsed onto the ground in the patio.
Dust rose around me as I struggled to breathe.
But the air wouldn’t come.
A crushing pressure filled my chest… and suddenly I began to cry.
It wasn’t loud sobbing.
It was silent crying.
The kind that rises from the deepest part of your soul.
At that moment I realized something I had never wanted to face.
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