Thank you, MotherinLaw, for the lesson I learned while I was married to your son, and now I am sending him back to you.
Dear Mrs. Whitmore,
It pains me that I could not call you Mum as I had hoped when we first met and when your son proposed to me. Of course I longed to be a bride; my closest friends had been married for years and I watched, with a twinge of envy, how they cared for one another, showed respect and love, and built a home together.
I dreamed of a family where a man would always stand by my side, a steady rock on which I could lean, children to raise, and the two of us tending to them as a team. I also imagined looking after my husband, making him feel my affection, and being able to talk with him about anything.
When I first saw the way he regarded you, I thought you had raised exactly the sort of man I wanted in my life. Before the wedding you uttered a single sentence that sketched the future that awaited me. You may have forgotten it, but I have not, and I regret that I did not give those words the weight they deserved. You said: My son is used to looking after only one woman. Those few words contain the essence of the upbringing you gave him from boyhood.
Your son never hesitates to run to the chemist for your pills, nor to fetch them from the other side of town, even though the shop is only a few steps from your house and buying medicine is no hardship. If your front door squeaks, my husband rushes to oil it, so you need not worry about such a serious problem. The fact that every door in our cottage creaks in a different tone, or that the wardrobe doors dip a little, never bothered him.
When my husband drove me home, instead of taking you for a stroll in the garden, you made a scene, accusing me of being heartless, lazy and accustomed to a life of ease. And why not? It is indeed more comfortable to travel by car than by train, and pulling a heavy luggage cart yourself is hardly an attractive prospect. Yet you seemed to long for a breath of fresh air.
My husband is a splendid son. When you could not sleep and, in the small hours, confided your distress to him, not thinking of the fact that we both had to work the next day, he hurriedly took a cab because he had been drinking a little in the evening and did not want to risk his licence. Instead of thanking him, you remarked that there is nothing wrong with abstaining from a drink with ones wife if his mother might need help at night. Of course you could refrain from everything, not merely alcohol, because he is your son and I am only his wife.
I commend you for never giving me any ground in your relationship with your son, though it is absurd to speak of sharing a man. You do not wish to share him with anyone.
Thank God we have no children. They would not have understood at once, but they could not have asked for their fathers time, for Grandmother always took precedence. Your caring son did not support me even when I truly needed it; it was a friend of mine who stepped in, understanding that depression would bring me no good. I had hoped for a few words of support, compassion and understanding from your son, but instead he once again rushed to aid you.
Yes, I admit I have lost; I could not become for him what you are, though I tried dearly. It is a shame that all my efforts went unnoticed by your son. He truly loves one woman you. The words of love he uttered to me were merely formalities, a protocol between betrothed.
I wish to be needed by a man, not a shiny perfect husband, not one who arranges everything in a strict order as your son does, not one who never returns home after a night with workmates. I wanted him to need me, to worry about my failures, to rejoice at my successes.
I am grateful that I have realised my husband will never be that kind of person. We never had children, for you do not need strong emotions; your son guarded your heart, yours alone, and no other. That very economy urged me to consider a pregnancy. Now I have another man in my life and a little boy who will be born in three months time.
I promise to raise that boy to be a proper man, though not in the way you understand the word. Thank you for the experience I gained in my marriage to your son. I return him to you, as healthy, caring and affectionate as ever. May you both find happiness.
Your former daughterinlaw.
