COMMENTARY: Hearing her voice every day

I like hearing my mother’s voice every day, even if now it is only to say, “God bless you, Amen.”

Mother’s Day always brings her closer to my thoughts, and I find myself reflecting on her life, her strength, and the quiet changes that time and distance bring to a family.

It has always been comforting to know she is there. Not always to fully understand me, but simply to be present. As an adult, that presence became something I learned to return in my own way—by accompanying her to enjoy what she has always loved: traveling and eating well.

Her later years have not been easy. Since the passing of my brother at the age of 50, she has carried a deep sadness. Still, she continued. She did not give up. Yet grief is not silent; it settles into the body over time.

Years passed before I was able to see her again. When I finally did, it was two years ago, during the period that included both Mother’s Day and her 80th birthday. I saw the passage of time in her face, in her movements, in her quiet resilience.

Since then, her health has required increasing attention. Like many families living abroad, the distance makes everything more complex—not only emotionally, but practically. The hardest part is not being far away. It is not always being able to provide the level of care and support she deserves in her later years.

There is also a broader reality that many families recognize: when support systems are limited, or when access depends on networks and proximity, the responsibility of care often falls heavily on families already stretched across borders.

I have also come to realize that our conversations are no longer as constant as they once were. What used to be daily calls at the same time have become more occasional, and yet more meaningful. Each conversation now carries more weight, more intention, more presence.

And still, I am grateful. Grateful that she has a caregiver who accompanies her. Grateful that I can still hear her voice. Grateful that connection, even when changed, remains possible.

My sister and I live abroad. We did not leave our country for political or economic reasons, but for love and family life. My brother remained with her until his passing, and our father passed away some years before.

What I see in my mother is a life fully lived—she was always active, sociable, engaged with people, full of energy in her daily life. Today, like many elderly people, the world around her has become quieter. The phone does not ring as often.

But this is not only her story. It is the story of many parents, many families, many children who now live far from home. And perhaps, one day, it will also be ours.

That is why Mother’s Day is not only a celebration. It is also a reminder—to be present, to value connection, to appreciate the simple act of hearing a loved one’s voice.

To live and to feel. To value those who are still with us. To forgive and to be forgiven. To give without always expecting in return. Because in the end, that too is love.

Yaritza Barbosa is a writer, international consultant, and translator.

The views expressed in this article are solely those of the author, and based on her experience.