They looked her straight in the eye and said: “We don’t want a ragtag daughter-in-law!”
I’m 57, without a family or children, but I want to give advice to all parents: don’t interfere in your sons’ and daughters’ lives or force them to live by your rules, because what makes you happy might not make them happy.
I am living proof of how, in their attempt to ensure the best for me, my parents drove away the woman I loved more than anything.
Mary came from a poor family, while my parents had inherited farms and properties and considered themselves above others.
When I introduced her to them, they sent her away, declaring they wouldn’t accept a daughter-in-law they deemed beneath them. She left offended but with her head held high.
She refused to run away with me to start a new life elsewhere.
She believed our parents would eventually do everything to tear us apart.
Mary married a neighbor of hers—just as poor—but they worked hard together and built a home on the edge of the town.
They had three children, and every time I saw her on the street, she always smiled and seemed happy.
One day, I asked her if she loved her husband.
Mary was from a poor family.
She told me she realized that for a family, stability and understanding between spouses are more important. Without these, love alone isn’t enough.
I didn’t agree with her, but I couldn’t argue as I felt like a betrayer.
I couldn’t get over Mary, and unlike her, I never married.
I couldn’t imagine living with a woman and having children without loving her.
My parents tried to match me with girls they found suitable, but I outright refused.
Eventually, they gave up and pleaded with me to find a wife I liked to carry on the family name.
But I didn’t want anyone else but Mary, and she had long built her life without a place for me in it.
My parents grew old, fell ill, and passed away one by one. I was left alone in our huge three-story house.
I rarely meet friends anymore because they’re busy with their grandchildren, and I tend to avoid them.
I’m happy for their joy, but it pains me too.
On weekends, I spend my time painting and fixing swings, slides, and playgrounds around the city.
Sometimes I help with the gardens in nursery schools.
I do this voluntarily and for free because I don’t need the money. This way, I make strangers’ children and grandchildren happy.
I sold all the properties and fields I inherited from my parents.
With the proceeds, I made donations to several schools and homes for abandoned children.
A friend once asked why I don’t donate to an elderly home. But I refuse.
As harsh as it sounds, it’s my way of taking revenge on my parents for my solitude.
Besides, the future lies with children, not the elderly, right?
Young ones need care and a good start in life.
When I die, my house will become the property of the school I attended.
They can use it however they want—or sell it if they prefer.
The important thing is that it goes towards a good cause!
