Don Mateo, a 75-year-old widower, had lived completely alone in his small, inherited house in the quiet rural area of Chiapas since his wife died.

He had three sons—Javier, Andrés, and Luis—all married and settled with their families in Mexico City.

At first, they still called occasionally or sent gifts for the Day of the D:ea:d. But over time, even those small gestures stopped.

For three long years, none of them returned home—not once.

Don Mateo spent his days tending a small vegetable garden, feeding his chickens, and trudging around the yard with a bent back and weak knees.

Once, he fell at the entrance to his house and had to crawl to the village road to find someone to help him.

Until one day, news spread throughout the town: the government was acquiring land for a major development project and was offering compensation of up to 5 million pesos per square meter.

As soon as his children heard, they returned in their SUVs, bringing their wives and children, carrying suitcases, and talking excitedly about paperwork and appraisals.

But as they got out of their vehicles at the entrance to the town of San Miguel de la Sierra, before even greeting their father, they ran into Don Ramiro, the village chief.

His face was serious, and his words even colder:

“You arrived too late.” Two weeks ago, Don Mateo donated all his land to an orphan boy from the village named Emilio. And before signing the documents, he made his reasoning very clear:

“I’m old and live alone. I don’t even know where my three children are now. But this boy… he brings me food every day, cleans my house, gives me back rubs, and buys my medicine. If anyone takes care of me, it’s him I’ll leave what I have to.”

The three brothers froze. Motionless, they exchanged glances of astonishment and shame.

Javier’s wife, unable to contain herself, shouted:

“This is abuse! He’s already old! How is it possible that they allow him to sign over the land like this, without consulting us?”

Don Ramiro, calm and serene, shrugged:

“There was a lawyer. Government officials were present. The new deeds were issued last week.” If you want to challenge it, do so in the district court in Tuxtla Gutiérrez.

Only Luis, the youngest and quietest of the three, turned around, his eyes brimming with tears.

He remembered the many times his father had called, asking tenderly,

“Will you be coming home for the holidays?”

And how he always replied,

“I’m busy with a big project, Dad. I’ll make it up to you next year.”

But now… there would be no next year.

Aging parents don’t need your money. They need your time.

And sometimes, by the time you realize that… it’s too late.