When Your Own Children Become Strangers: A Mother’s Tale
In my younger years, filled with energy and hope, I, Eleanor Thompson, dedicated everything I had to my children. Friends often warned me, “Don’t lose yourself in them completely; save something for yourself.” But I paid no heed. Now, at 69, I find myself alone, with no one to hand me a glass of water. The echoes of those words haunt my mind, and I bitterly regret my past choices.
My husband, Robert, passed away when our son was only four and our daughter six. Being left alone with two young children was a trial. I worked two jobs to provide for them. My mother helped, often reminding me, “Children need a mother, not just bread on the table.” But who would have fed us if I’d stayed at home?
I tried to fill the father’s absence by showering them with love and spoiling them, believing it would cover the void left by Robert’s death. The children grew up and started their own families. I aimed to be the perfect grandmother, continuing to give all of myself to the family.
One morning, I woke up unable to feel my legs. Struggling, I reached the phone and called my son. He answered, “Mum, I’m busy, I can’t come over right now.” My daughter didn’t pick up. I called for an ambulance—they arrived without any hassle.
At the hospital, they diagnosed me with leg thrombosis. The doctors said the clots could have dislodged at any time, leading to a fatal outcome. I faced a long recovery and strict bed rest. I pleaded with my children to visit. When they finally appeared, they told me right there in the ward, “We have our own concerns; we can’t look after you.”
My daughter explained that her youngest was heading to university and my son’s wife was down with the flu. They decided it would be best for me to remain in the hospital alone. Such “valid” reasons to leave their mother in a dire state.
After being discharged, I returned to an empty flat. I lacked the energy even to cook a meal. My neighbor, Sarah Williams, offered help for a small fee. We became friends, supporting each other on our modest pensions.
Looking back now, I realize that overindulgence and pampering do not replace true love and respect. I failed to teach my children to value and respect those close to them. In my youth, I sowed indulgence, and in my old age, I reap loneliness.
I urge all parents: Do not lose yourself completely in your children; remember to care for yourself as well. Teach them love and respect, rather than just catering to their whims. What you plant in their hearts when they are young will dictate what you harvest in your later years.
