My name is Matthew, and for most of my childhood I thought my family was perfect. It was simple, but warm. My parents, Chloe and Richard, seemed inseparable-at least that’s how it seemed in my innocent world. My father kept a mechanical workshop in a quiet village in Tuscany, while my mother stayed home to take care of me. As their only child, I was their world, and I thought nothing could separate our little family.
But one day everything changed like lightning splitting the calm sky. My father was suddenly fired from his job, and though I didn’t understand the details at the time, I could feel the tension in the air. His laughter subsided and there was a heavy silence in our house. Although he had found another job, it was clear that the stress was weighing on him. Money became scarce, and the nights were filled with screams and the clanging of crashing plates. I hid under the duvet, shivering and wishing for peace.
Then came the final blow. My father found out that my mother was secretly seeing another man. Our home, once filled with warmth, became a battlefield. The arguments were endless, and eventually my father left, leaving us behind. I begged my mum to let me see him, but she always shouted: “It’s his fault, Matthew! He left us!” Her words hurt, but they didn’t take away my longing for my father.
One cold morning my mum came to me with a bright smile like I hadn’t seen in a long time. ‘Pack your things, sweetheart, we’re going to the sea!’ – she said. My heart jumped with excitement. To the sea! It was like a dream. She quickly packed the clothes into an old suitcase, and when I tried to take my toy steam trains, she stopped me. ‘We’ll buy you new ones there,’ she promised.
We arrived at the bus station filled with people. After buying our tickets, she said we had to make a quick stop. We boarded an old, creaky bus that rattled along the road. I dreamed of the beach, imagining the waves and the castles I would build. Eventually the bus stopped in front of a dilapidated building with peeling walls and fogged windows.
‘Wait here, Matthew,’ she said, pointing to a bench outside. “I’m going to get you an ice cream. Don’t move.”
I nodded, sat down on the cold bench, and waited for her to return. Time seemed to drag on, the sun was starting to set, the wind was getting colder. Gradually fear crept in. I called out to her, but my voice was lost in the growing darkness. I fell asleep alone, shivering on the bench.
When I woke up, I was no longer outside. I was lying in a warm bed. Confused, I opened my eyes and found myself in an unfamiliar room. My heart was pounding frantically. ‘Mum?’ I called out, hoping she had returned.
The door opened and there stood my father with a woman I didn’t recognise.
“Daddy! Where’s Mummy? She went to get ice cream and now she’s gone!” frantically I asked.
My father sat next to me, his face full of sadness. He gently took my hand and spoke words that changed me forever, “Matthew, your mother left you. She’s gone. And she’s not coming back.”
I felt like the world crumbled beneath my feet. My mother left me? No, mothers don’t do that. I cried, screaming that it wasn’t true, that she had promised. But my father held me close and kept saying, ‘She’s not coming back, son.’
Years passed and my father and I moved to Positano, a coastal town by the sea. Eventually he married a kind woman named Usula, and although at first I kept my distance from her, I began to accept her. Then my younger brother Danny was born, and I realised for the first time what a real family was like – warm, calm, safe.
Over the years, my father told me even more. After my mother left me, she called him the next day, coldly informed him where I was, and hung up. She was stripped of her parental rights and I never heard from her again.
Time moved on. I graduated from university, got a great job and was able to buy my own flat in Positano. But one stormy evening everything changed again. As I was walking home from work, I saw a figure sitting on a bench outside my house. A chill ran down my spine. The woman lifted her head and whispered: ‘Matthew…’
‘I’m your mother,’ she said, her voice shaking.
I froze. She looked aged, haggard – a stranger.
“Why now? After all these years?” I asked, feeling a mixture of anger and disbelief.
I called my father and Usula and they came quickly. Their presence calmed my nerves.
‘It’s your choice, son…if you think she deserves a place in your life,’ my father said softly.
I looked at her, the woman who had abandoned me all those years ago, and felt nothing but emptiness. The bell rang and my father went to open the door. She tried to follow him, but I stood up and said: “You are not my mother. My mother is the one who raised me, who stayed behind when you ran away. I don’t need your excuses. Go away. And don’t come back.”
She burst into tears, but I didn’t move from my seat. She turned and disappeared into the night.
I turned to my father and Usula and, gathering all my strength, I hugged them. “I love you. Thank you…for everything.”
They were my family. My home. My truth.
And her? Just a ghost from a past I’d outgrown.
Lessons learnt:
- Don’t abandon your children. They didn’t ask to be born; you brought them here. The least they deserve is your love.
- Family is not created from nothing, but by those who stay, who love, and who choose to be there for each other through thick and thin.
I, Matthew, know this better than anyone else.
