Mother’s Day in Indonesia is rooted in history and struggle. But this year, it became a mirror.

and I didn’t like what I saw.

> "Your uncle is right. I should just focus on my own matters, because everyone has already shown they are no good to me. I won’t ask much from anyone anymore, as long as I’m fine taking care of your little brother."

> "You spoke to me very rudely. They said you had changed, and I didn’t believe it. Now I finally understand it, and I learned it while crying."

> --- My own Mother

I couldn’t fully describe what happened in words.

It’s difficult to explain, but it feels like every wrong move I made finally shattered the image of my old self.

## What happened?

Since I started college, things haven’t gone well, at least not the way they should. I don’t feel like I represent what a college student is supposed to be. I’ve been lazy with assignments. Lazy with myself.

As the months passed, I realized that I no longer spoke to my mother the way I used to. When she kept asking questions like,

> “Where have you been?”

> “How much balance do you have left?”

> “What have you eaten?”

> and other small things that once felt normal

I often responded rudely, simply because I felt annoyed by the sheer number of questions. I reacted as if they were unnecessary, as if I wanted to say, “You don’t need to ask that much,” without realizing that those questions were never meant to control me, but to care for me.

One day, we had a small clash simply because I didn’t answer her call while I was still on the road. I could have easily explained that I was outside, walking, but in that moment it felt irritating instead of simple. It continued like that until I finally grew fed up, and out of frustration, I began blocking her on WhatsApp and Telegram.

A week later, I overheard my father calling my mother.

> "How hard is it for you to send the documents I asked for?"

> "You’re asking what those documents are for? Fine."

> *They’re for my own death certificate."

> "Is that enough for you, bastard?"

> "Do you want me to come to town and tear the fucking papers apart myself?"

> "You’re so fucking stupid and impossible to explain things to."

> "I really want to sell you one day, but you’re not even worth being sold."

> "NOW SEND IT OR NOT?"

Then my mother hung up. From what I heard, she sounded completely desperate during that call. Just witnessing the situation alone, I tried to calm my father down.

> “If your stupid mother doesn’t send it to me, I swear I’ll come to town, tear the family card in half, and make a new one for myself. I’m perfectly fine living alone.”

…Yeah. That was rough. Immediately, I unblocked my mother and tried to reach out, calling her to explain the real reason my father was asking for those documents. something he never explained to her himself. But that night, at 21:44, her phone was completely powered off.

The next day, I finally explained everything that had happened and the actual reason behind the documents, which would eventually be beneficial in the future. After that, things slowly began to calm down.

## The Night I Failed My Own Mother

That night, my head was aching and my thoughts were in complete disarray. I wasn’t in the right condition to talk, let alone explain myself properly. Still, I chose to respond, and in doing so, I failed to be careful with my words.

My mother asked questions out of concern. I know that now. But instead of answering with patience, I replied sharply, letting my exhaustion dictate my tone. I didn’t intend to hurt her, yet intention did not matter once the words had already landed.

Later, she told me what my messages had done to her. She said:

> "Your uncle was right. From now on, what matters most is that I take care of myself properly. Everyone else has already disappointed me. I won’t ask much from anyone anymore. I’ll just focus on raising your younger brother."

And then, this message:

> "You spoke to me very harshly. They told me that you had changed, but I didn’t believe them. Now I finally understand it, and I learned it while crying, reading your messages."

what have i done....

> "Because you are my child, and you live in the same house as your father, that is why I asked."

> "You know how much I love you. I was so happy raising you as you grew up. Even if you are overwhelmed with me now, please don’t place all the blame on me."

And then, in words that carried both pain and love, she ended with:

> "Everything is my fault, yes, my fault alone. What matters now is that I pray for you: that you become a university graduate, that you grow more successful, and that your dreams come true."

i am sorry...

i am very sorry...

as your own very son, i really don't know what you feel...

> "You are only around XX years old.

Usually, it’s only when someone reaches about twenty-five to thirty that their mind truly becomes aware. Only then do people fully realize that what they did to someone has hurt them."

> "Right now, what you did has not yet reached the level of deep disappointment. You also still do not fully understand what should not be said carelessly. One day, you will understand on your own."

> "Your time to be fully mature has not yet come.

> I am not angry with you, and I am not blaming you.

> I am the one at fault. all of it is my fault.

> That’s all."

mom... it's not your fault, truly it's my fault

> "You should not say that one day you might no longer be the son I once knew.

> Even if you don’t like me, or even if you hate me, that is still okay."

> "I am the one who carried you in my womb and gave birth to you"

> --- My Mom

Happy Mother's Day, Everyone...