A Mother’s Last Wish

In the remote village of Chakwal, life moved to the rhythm of seasons — the wind carrying the scent of wet soil and ripe wheat, and the canal’s gentle murmur providing a constant lullaby. Among the narrow mud-brick lanes lived Amma Farida, an 80-year-old mother whose strength and wisdom were known to all. Her hands were worn and calloused from decades of tending fields and household chores, yet her touch remained soft and tender. Her eyes, though clouded with age, held a spark that spoke of years of unbreakable love and tireless sacrifice.

Amma Farida had faced hardships no one could have imagined. She lost her husband at a young age, leaving her to care for five children — three sons and two daughters — alone. Every day had been a battle: waking before dawn, tilling fields, cooking over a smoky fire, stitching clothes, and making sure her children had food, clothing, and education. She never complained, believing her children’s happiness and future were worth every ache in her body.

Over the years, her children grew and moved to distant cities, chasing opportunities their mother had never dreamed of. Despite her pride, Amma Farida often sat alone on the doorstep, staring at the horizon, longing for the sound of laughter and familiar footsteps. Her neighbors, who had watched her children grow up, often shook their heads in admiration. “Her heart is a river,” they whispered. “It never runs dry.”

One harsh winter, a terrible illness swept through the village. Amma Farida fell gravely sick. Weak and feverish, she sensed her time was short. Yet even in illness, her thoughts remained on her children. She called her youngest daughter, Saira, to her side. “Tell them… I have only one wish before I leave this world,” she said softly. “Gather together, all of them. Let me see my children one last time. I want to hold them, hear their laughter, and tell them everything my heart has carried for decades.”

The news traveled swiftly, carried by neighbors who understood the gravity of the mother’s plea. One by one, her children returned, braving snow, rain, and long journeys. By the time they arrived, the sun was setting, painting the village in shades of gold and crimson. There, on a simple charpoy in the courtyard, lay their mother — frail, yet radiant. Her eyes lit up at the sight of her children, and despite her weakness, she smiled.

“Mother… we’re here,” Saira said, kneeling beside her and taking her trembling hand.

Amma Farida’s lips quivered with emotion. “You came… you came back to me,” she whispered, her voice a mix of joy and relief. She began to speak, recounting stories from their childhood — the time her eldest son fell into the canal and she rescued him despite the freezing water, the day her youngest daughter got lost in the fields and was found only because she never gave up searching, the countless nights she stayed awake, sewing clothes and tending the sick. Her children listened in silence, tears streaming down their faces, as memories long forgotten resurfaced.

She spoke of lessons learned the hard way: “Life will be difficult. There will be storms you cannot avoid. But family… family is your anchor. Never let go of each other. Protect each other. Love deeply.”

The night grew colder, yet Amma Farida’s spirit shone brightly. She asked her children to sit around her, holding each of their hands in hers. “I am proud of all of you,” she said softly. “But remember, the strength you carry… it comes from love, from caring for each other. Do not ever forget your family, even when I am gone.”

Her eldest son, now a father himself, clutched her hand tightly. “Mother, we never realized how much we needed you until this moment,” he whispered. Her daughters nodded, tears falling freely, realizing that her love had shaped their lives in ways they could never repay.

As the night wore on, Amma Farida closed her eyes for a moment, breathing deeply. Her children watched over her, holding her close. With a final, gentle sigh, she passed away, leaving behind a legacy of love, resilience, and devotion that would never fade.

In the days that followed, the village mourned her, but they also celebrated her life. Schools taught children about her bravery and tireless spirit, and neighbors often told newcomers, “She was a mother who never let hardship bend her, a heart that kept her children safe even from afar.”

Years later, Saira would tell her own children about Amma Farida — about the strength in her hands, the warmth in her embrace, and the wisdom in her words. She taught them that a mother’s love is not measured by years lived but by the lives she shapes, the hearts she nurtures, and the courage she inspires.

Even after her passing, the courtyard where Amma Farida spent her last days remained a place of reflection. Children played there, parents shared stories, and the villagers often paused to remember the mother whose life was a testament to eternal love and sacrifice.

“Even when a mother’s body grows frail, her love carries on — lighting the hearts of those she nurtured, forever.”