The money isn’t much, but I want my children to live with integrity and harmony. Don’t make my soul in the afterlife sorrowful.
My mother passed away one morning at the end of autumn, as gentle as an oil lamp slowly flickering out. Throughout her life, she worked tirelessly and left behind no wealth—only a small, worn-out house and a few old belongings.
The funeral was simple. My two older brothers and I—my eldest, Jun, my second, Carlo, and I, Miguel—sat together to discuss how to divide the few things that remained.
In the small room, apart from an old wooden cabinet, there was nothing of value. Only three worn-out wool blankets my mother had folded carefully. I stared at them silently, my heart tight. To me, those blankets held all of my childhood. But Jun scoffed:
“Why keep these torn blankets? Better throw them away.”
Carlo added,
“Exactly, they’re not worth a cent. Whoever wants them can take them. I’m not carrying garbage.”
Their words hurt me deeply. Had they forgotten those cold nights when the whole family slept together, and Mom covered each of us with these blankets while shivering in her patched coat? I pressed my lips together and said,
“If you don’t want them, I’ll take them.”
Jun waved his hand dismissively:
“Suit yourself. Garbage is garbage.”
The Secret Within the Blankets
The next day, I brought the three blankets to my small apartment. I planned to wash them and keep them as mementos. As I shook one vigorously, I heard a sharp “clack!”—as if something hard had fallen to the floor. I bent down, my heart racing.
Inside the torn lining, there was a small hand-sewn brown cloth pouch.
With trembling hands, I opened it: inside were several old savings booklets and some carefully wrapped gold coins. The total exceeded one hundred thousand pesos. I gasped.
Mom, who had lived her entire life in austerity, without any luxuries, had silently saved every peso, hiding her fortune in these old blankets.
I wept uncontrollably. Memories flooded back: the days she sold vegetables to earn a few coins, the times she rummaged through her bag to give me money for school. I had always believed she had nothing… but in reality, she had saved everything for us.
As I checked the other two blankets, I found two more pouches. In total, nearly three hundred thousand pesos.
The Conflict
The news didn’t take long to spread. One night, Jun and Carlo came to my apartment, faces hardened.
“Are you keeping it all?” Jun shouted. “That money is Mom’s inheritance! Why are you hiding it?”
“I didn’t hide it,” I replied. “I planned to reveal it on the anniversary of her death. But remember: you rejected the blankets and wanted to throw them away. If I hadn’t taken them, the money would be gone.”
Carlo muttered angrily,
“Either way, it’s Mom’s estate. It should be split among the three of us. Don’t dream of keeping it all.”
I remained silent. I knew the money should be divided, but I also remembered how they treated Mom. They never gave her anything, while I, though poor, sent her money every month. When she was sick, I cared for her alone; they always had excuses. And now…
The arguments went on for days. Even Jun threatened to sue me.
The Last Letter
While reviewing the pouches again, I found a small piece of paper hidden at the bottom. It was Mom’s shaky handwriting:
“These three blankets are for my three children.
Whoever still loves me and remembers my sacrifice will recognize it.
The money isn’t much, but I want you to live with integrity and harmony.
Don’t make my soul in the afterlife sorrowful.”
I hugged the paper, crying uncontrollably. Mom had planned everything. It was her way of testing us.
I called my brothers over, and when they arrived, I placed the note in front of them. They stayed silent, eyes lowered. The room was filled with a heavy quiet, broken only by our sobs.
My Decision
I spoke calmly:
“Mom left this for all three of us. I won’t keep anything. I propose we divide it equally. But please, remember: the money is important, yes, but what she wanted most was for us to live in peace.”
Jun lowered his head, voice hoarse:
“I… I was wrong. I only thought about the money and forgot Mom’s words.”
Carlo, eyes wet, added:
“She suffered so much… and we never thanked her.”
We remained silent for a while. Finally, we agreed to split the money equally. Each of us took our share, as a memento of our mother.
The Fate of Each of Us
Jun, the eldest: Once greedy, but after this event, he completely changed. He used his share for his children’s education and visits Mom’s grave every month, seeking redemption.
Carlo, the second: Always impulsive, but Mom’s letter transformed him. He donated part of his share to the poor, “to earn merit for her,” he said.
Miguel (me): I kept my share untouched. I created a small scholarship in my hometown, in honor of Mom—the woman who sacrificed silently all her life.
Epilogue
The three old blankets, which seemed like worthless rags, hid not only a fortune but also an eternal lesson.
Through her last act, Mom taught us to resist greed and value family bonds.
Today, when winter comes, I take one of those blankets and cover my child with it. I want him to learn that the true value in life isn’t in inherited money, but in love, kindness, and unity.
Because only when we truly know how to love can we be worthy of being called our mother’s children.