My mother gave me back the money I sent her every month

Dear Delyara, I have worked in Britain for nineteen years and sent money to my mother every month. Not much at first, then more as my wages improved. She always thanked me and said it helped with electricity, medicines, groceries, repairs. When I visited this week, she opened an old biscuit tin and handed me bundles of notes tied with elastic bands. Nearly every payment I had sent over the past five years was there. I became angry. I asked why she let me worry about overtime, why she told me the electricity bill had increased, why she accepted money she did not need. She looked offended and said, “A mother can accept from her son without spending from her son.” Then she told me she had been saving it because my marriage ended, because I rent a room, because she knows I tell everyone I am fine when I am not. I am forty-seven years old. I have spent half my adult life believing I was supporting an old woman thousands of miles away. Apparently, she was quietly building an emergency fund for me inside a tin that once contained butter biscuits. Tonight, she is sleeping in the next room. The money is beside my suitcase because she refuses to take it back. I keep looking at those bundles and wondering how many hours of my life I sent home believing they were love, while my mother turned them around and kept them ready for the day love might need to travel in the other direction.