Eavesdropping

She was in the car with a colleague, on her way to sort out paperwork to finalise her retirement. Barely an hour ago, she removed her invitro-chemo tube, and she was out and about. I was worried about her, about whether she's strong enough to be busy and travelling. I told her to rest whenever she can, and to eat well.

The conversation lasted only a short while, but I guess she forgot to hang up the phone, so I could still hear her talk with her colleague.

"It's my son," she said, "calling to ask how I'm doing. He's worried I'll be too tired and he told me to take care of myself". She finished that with a slight chuckle, and went on to recount the story of what I had mailed to her recently as a retirement gift. It was a blanket I bought from a recent travel to Nova Scotia. "It was so thoughtful of him..."

I felt embarrassed to hear that, to hear that mum was touched by my gift, and that my care and words of encouragement on the phone makes a difference to her. I know it's wrong to eavesdrop, so I quickly hang up the line.

But I had heard enough to know that I'm doing the best I can to give her strength and care in difficult times.