My son was my companion and support throughout my life, but everything changed after he got married.
I never imagined that my child could transform so much under the influence of someone else. My only son, Alexander, had always been a golden boy — polite, kind, and ready to lend a hand. That’s how he grew up and remained as an adult. Until he got married, we were inseparable: we saw each other often, talked for hours about everything under the sun, shared our troubles and joys, and supported one another. Of course, within reasonable limits — I never intruded into his life excessively. But everything fell apart when she entered his life — Linda.
For their wedding, Linda and Alexander received a gift from her parents — a one-bedroom flat in central Manchester, brand new after a renovation. It became their property, their little nest. I never visited them there, but my son showed me photos on his phone: bright walls, new furniture, cozy. After my husband passed away, I had no savings left, so I decided to give the young couple almost all my jewelry — gold chains, rings, earrings that I had saved over the years. I told Linda, “If you want to melt them down, I don’t mind.” I wanted to do something good for them, support them at the start.
But Linda… She quickly revealed her nature. A woman with a personality — sharp as a knife. I noticed how she peeked into the envelopes with money they received for the wedding — curiosity about how much was inside consumed her. It made me wary. On one hand, such acumen could make her a good wife, but on the other — you have to keep your guard up with someone like her. Modern women often see a husband as a wallet, spend his money like it’s theirs, and then divorce, take half, and move on to a new target. I don’t wish such a fate for Alexander, but worry gnaws at me inside.
Six months after the wedding, Linda declared that she didn’t want children yet. Not now, she said, it’s impossible in their small flat. She shrugged, “What can we do? I don’t want to take out a mortgage, and who knows when we’ll earn enough for a bigger place. Alexander isn’t a big boss yet.” She was thinking out loud, but I heard calculation in her voice. I live in a house my late husband started building. It stands unfinished, with holes in the walls. In winter, it’s cold as a freezer — I can’t afford to heat the whole beast on my pension. And then Linda suggested, “Sell your house, get yourself a little flat, and give us the rest for a new place. Then we’ll consider children.”
Do you understand what that means? She wants me, old and frail, to move into a tiny box, while they take all the best. And then, who knows, they might even take my flat and send me to a nursing home. At first, I thought about agreeing — if they helped me financially once a month. But now? No way! With someone like Linda, you have to be on guard — you can expect any kind of nastiness.
After that conversation, Alexander visited me several times. He hinted that her idea wasn’t so bad: “Why do you need a big house? An apartment would be easier, lower utility bills.” I stood my ground: “The city is growing, in 5-10 years the houses will be worth much more. My land is no longer on the outskirts, selling now is foolish.” Once, I suggested we swap homes. They could move into my house, and I into their flat. After all, it’s the same, right? But Linda balked. She didn’t like that the house needed repairs, investment, while I would live carefree in their gifted flat. She wants convenience, even if my option is more economical. That’s just her nature — and nothing can be done about it.
Then I fell seriously ill. I was bedridden, couldn’t get up — fever, cough, splitting headache. I called Alexander, pleading for him to visit, bring food and medicine. I knew the young had little time, but I couldn’t even muster the strength to boil a kettle. Once, I would’ve been sure he’d drop everything to come. But now? He came only the next day. He made me some kind of powdered “Lemsip,” tossed a packet of aspirin on the table — without a box, probably expired — shrugged, and left. Thankfully, my friend saved me — brought soup, meds, everything I needed. But what if she hadn’t been there? What then?
My son was my light, my support throughout my life. I trusted him completely — he was not just a son, but a friend, a part of me. But the wedding changed everything. We became strangers, and I am powerless to change it. He is my only child, my love, my pride, but now I see: his heart is no longer with me. He chose her. Linda has erected a wall between us, and I am left on the other side — alone, abandoned, unwanted. My mind says the bond we had is severed. It’s his time to choose — mother or wife. And the choice is clear as day. Yet my heart still hopes he remembers what I meant to him and returns. But with each passing day, that hope melts away, like snow under a foreign sun.
