When a Son Disappears, and a Mother Waits Six years. That’s how long it has been since she last saw her son. Not a visit, not a call, not even a message. Just silence.
For this elderly woman, every day begins the same way—waking up with the quiet hope that today might be different. That maybe, just maybe, the phone will ring, and she’ll hear his voice again. But the days turn into months, the months into years, and hope fades into an unbearable emptiness.
She remembers the last time she saw him. He was in a hurry, distracted, promising to come back soon. “Don’t worry, Mom, I’ll visit next month.” But that month never came.
At first, she told herself he was just busy—work, family, responsibilities. She made excuses for him, convincing herself that he still cared. But as birthdays passed without a word, as holidays came and went with an empty chair at the table, the painful reality set in: she had been forgotten.
She doesn’t know why. There was no argument, no final goodbye. Just a slow, cruel distance that grew until it became permanent. She tried reaching out—calling, sending letters, even asking mutual acquaintances—but the response was always the same: «He’s doing fine,» «He’s just busy,» «He’ll get in touch soon.»

But he never did.
Now, she sits by the window, watching the world go by. Young families pass with their children, sons walking arm in arm with their mothers, and she wonders—does he ever think about her? Does he remember the mother who raised him, who sacrificed for him, who would give anything just to hear his voice again?
The cruelest part of growing old isn’t age itself. It’s loneliness. It’s realizing that the person you gave your heart to has moved on without looking back.
She still holds onto hope, but deep down, she knows the truth. Some absences last forever.