“I did it so you could have a better life — something we couldn’t give you.” That was all his mother could say when, after being apart for decades, her son finally asked the question that had haunted him since childhood.

Thirty-eight years ago, a poor mother handed over her five-year-old son to her unmarried sister-in-law — a woman known for her stern and unbending ways. The little boy cried and begged not to be taken, but no amount of tears could undo the decision.

The maiden aunt brought the child to Quezon City with the promise that he would be sent to school, all the way through college. And to her credit, she kept that promise — at least on paper.

Running a small sari-sari store, the aunt managed to provide food, shelter and tuition. But it came at a cost.

“No question about her providing for me,” the man recalls. “But it wasn’t easy. I grew up with her constant harsh words. She made it clear: without her, I’d never even finish high school. She would often insult my parents, saying they were useless because my father had lost his job and fell into bad habits.”

Things got worse in college. Though he was older, the restrictions grew tighter. Degradation came daily.

“I couldn’t even join group studies. I had to be home by 6 or 7 p.m. to help her with house chores. If I was late, I was humiliated and scolded. That’s when I missed my parents most. I used to think — maybe if I had stayed with them, I wouldn’t have suffered like this.”

Eventually, he had had enough.

With money pooled together by kind-hearted classmates, he made his escape. He returned to the province — hungry for warmth, for answers, and most of all, for his parents.

And when he finally asked his mother, “Why did you give me away,” she looked at him with sorrow in her eyes and said: “We couldn’t afford to send you to school anymore. Your older brothers were still studying. We thought you’d have a better chance. I’m sorry you had to go through all that without us.”

‘Not perfect’

It was the answer he needed. Not perfect. Not painless. But enough. He asked only one thing: don’t send me back.

After a month of rest and reflection, he returned to Manila — this time on his own terms. He found work quickly. It wasn’t glamorous, but it paid the bills — for him and for his parents.

In time, he and his aunt reconciled. They made peace. She has since passed on.

Today, the boy who was given away is a grown man, still the breadwinner. Life has toughened him, but not broken him. He doesn’t blame his parents. But he admits there are moments when the questions return. Questions no answer can ever completely erase.

Still, he presses on. “I will remain your support and strength,” he says.

“Despite the hardships, I will continue to love you and Papa. I will not give up. Forgive me if I sometimes fall short. Forgive me if I sometimes question your decisions back then. But I understand. Entrusting me to someone else must have killed you inside. And I appreciate that sacrifice.”

Happy Mother’s Day, Mama.