Happy Mother’s Day, Mom: An Open Letter

Yesterday was Mother’s Day. I feel like time keeps stretching on; I’m not the same man I was five years ago. I’ve learned to face my doubts and weaknesses, and I’ve come to understand that I must love from afar. My story is complex—like that of many Venezuelans. Instead of staying sad, instead of lamenting, crying, or feeling hopeless, I learned that I must love from a distance.

After all, I haven’t been physically with my mom since 2018. Even so, we talk every day, share our secrets, and yes, sometimes we argue. Forgive me, Mom—I’m far from perfect. Imperfection is part of the game of life. Some time ago, elizabeths14 suggested I should write about this here. I’ve always been honest, and I deeply value one thing: the love and affection I feel for the three women in my family.

When it comes to my mom, my sister, and my niece Isabella, I don’t have to think twice. It’s simply the way I feel. The adult version of me knows what really matters these days.

My sister, @gimenezyan, my younger brother, and I planned to buy something simple for our mom. She’s always happy with small gifts—anything simple makes her smile. And that, in turn, makes us happy. My siblings and I work hard; we have many dreams and goals we want to achieve, but we take things one step at a time.

What matters most is that, throughout this whole process, we can still give our mom little tokens of appreciation. It doesn’t make up for the fact that we’re not physically together, but it’s a small present in return for everything she’s done for us.

For us, Mother’s Day is every day. We’ve seen how hard it is to face nightmares and medical challenges. We know that time is the most precious thing. Our mom went through a difficult surgery and is currently undergoing treatment for other complicated medical issues. As a family, we are working through it together.

Every day, I wake up thinking about seeing my mom and hugging her. That’s what I’m working toward—there’s a part of me that tells me daily I need to see her to keep going. I feel that’s something I must do to allow myself to move forward.

What we have today, we’ve built through hard work. Our mom gave everything for us. Now we’re adults, and these small gestures seem so simple to me. There are so many things we still wish to give her. As her eldest son, I remember how she used to work to support us—to buy food, clothes, or toys. All moms are supermoms because they are willing to give everything for their children.

My sister chose the perfect gifts. Mom was thrilled—she wanted something for the kitchen and also something for herself. My mom is still a young woman, and she’s beautiful. I don’t say that just because she’s my mom—you can see it in the photos. Throughout her journey across South America, she’s been through a lot (my brother and sister, too).

One thing that fills me with joy and makes everything worth it is seeing her smile. My sister and I planned not to tell her anything—we simply let her go out to do her Sunday shopping, and when she came back, the gifts were there waiting. My mom really wants to return to Venezuela. I hope, together with my siblings, we can make that happen soon.

I’m hopeful, Mom. I’m filled with hope because we’ve done well. There’s been pain and there are still wounds, but we’ve changed our story. The life we once believed was predestined was just a limitation of our thinking—not a lack of dreams.

People once judged us for not having stability, and you lived through all of it. I saw it, being your eldest son, but I’m happy to have you, happy you’re doing well, receiving your medical treatment, and that each of us, in our own way, is able to support you. There is still so much to do, so many dreams to chase, and a reunion to make happen. I love you, Mom.

This letter will be sent to my mom. Feel free to read it or appreciate it. Every photo has been authorized for publication on my blog. Original content by @neruel. All rights reserved © 2025. Translation and grammatical corrections: ChatGPT - DeepL - LanguageTool.