The figure at the end of the darkened path was his mother, Isabella. But this was not the vibrant, smiling woman from the dancing lessons or the gentle gardener. This was the Isabella of the hospital, weakened and pale, her eyes clouded with a pain that mirrored his own. She stood motionless, bathed in the sickly green glow of the memories swirling around her.
Mateo hesitated, his heart pounding. He wanted to rush to her, to embrace her, but an invisible barrier held him back. It was the weight of unspoken words, of fears never addressed, of the anger he'd harbored at a disease that stole his mother's vitality.
"Mateo," she whispered, her voice raspy and weak, a stark contrast to the melodious tones he remembered. "I… I was so afraid."
He took a tentative step closer. "Afraid of what, Mamá?"
"Of leaving you," she said, her eyes welling with tears. "Of not seeing you… happy. Of the burden I knew I was leaving you with."
The memories around them intensified, flickering images of Mateo arguing with nurses, snapping at his father, withdrawing into himself after her diagnosis. The shame washed over him, heavier than any physical weight.
"I wasn't a good son," he choked out, the words tasting like ash. "I was angry. Selfish."
Isabella reached out a trembling hand, her fingers brushing against his. The touch was fleeting, ethereal, yet it sent a jolt of pure emotion through him. "You were grieving, mi hijo. Grief is a wild beast. It doesn't care about being good."
"But I should have been stronger for you," Mateo insisted. "I should have told you I loved you, every day, instead of…"
"Instead of what?" Isabella prompted gently.
"Instead of being afraid to say goodbye," he admitted, the confession tearing through him. "I was so scared of losing you that I… I held back. I didn't let myself feel. And now…"
He couldn't finish the sentence. Now she was gone, and the words were trapped in his throat, a permanent monument to his regret.
Isabella's gaze softened. She stepped closer, and the oppressive green glow around them began to dissipate, replaced by a faint, warmer light. "Then say it now, mi amor."
Mateo looked into her eyes, saw the love that transcended even death, and finally, the dam broke. "I love you, Mamá. I love you more than words can say. I miss you. I'm so sorry for everything."
As the words poured out, the air around them shimmered. The barrier that had kept him at bay dissolved, and he was able to reach out and take his mother's hand. It felt solid, real. Her pale cheeks flushed with a hint of color.
"Thank you, Mateo," she said, a genuine smile gracing her lips for the first time since he'd seen her. "You needed to say that. And I needed to hear it."
The hospital memories faded, replaced by the soft, gentle images of their happier times. The scent of jasmine filled the air once more, washing away the antiseptic tang of the past.
From behind Mateo, a voice called out. "Isabella?" It was Teódulo. "Your thread is strong now, alma. It is time for you to move on. Mateo has released you."
Isabella squeezed Mateo's hand one last time, her eyes shining with love and gratitude. "I will always be with you, mi hijo. In the music, in the flowers, in every good thing you do."
She released his hand and turned towards Teódulo, her form becoming brighter, more radiant than before. Together, they walked away down a path bathed in golden light, leaving Mateo standing alone, bathed in the afterglow of their shared forgiveness.
He had found his mother. And in doing so, he had found a piece of himself. The story was not over, but the chapter of regret was finally closed.