I’ll never forget those words. From then on, I promised myself to do everything possible to make his life more bearable. Every winter, I bought him a thick coat and a blanket. When his stomach hurt, I cooked him rice soup. When his feet hurt, I massaged them tenderly.
I never expected that one day he would leave me something. I did it because I considered him like my own father.
The Last Moment
As time passed, Tatay Ramón grew weaker. At 85, the doctor at the provincial hospital said his heart was very weak. A few days before his last night, he used to call me to his bedside to tell me stories of his youth and remind his children and grandchildren to live with honor.
Until the afternoon of his farewell arrived. While breathing heavily, he called me. He held out an old pillow, torn on one side, and in a weak voice said:
“For… Maria…”
I hugged the pillow, not fully understanding. In just a few minutes, he closed his eyes forever.
The Secret Inside the Pillow
The night of the wake, as I sat on the terrace, I opened the torn pillow. What I found took my breath away: neatly folded bills, a few small gold coins, and three old savings books.
