I built my home on my mother-in-laws land. When my wife died, her mother decided to sell it for her own daughter. I called in the digger.
When I first met my wife, we were young, madly in love, and completely skint. We married in a rush despite all the warnings from family and friends. We believed love could make anything possible. Her mother offered us a patch of land behind her house in Kent.
Build here, she said, waving a hand towards the garden. Theres plenty of space, and I dont need it all myself.
My wife and I glanced at one another, hope flickering in our eyes. It was just the chance we needed. We began saving every penny. I worked on construction sites from dawn till dusk; she picked up cleaning jobs, stitched homeware for neighbours, took any work she could find. We spent our weekends together at the plotbrick by brick, our home slowly took shape.
Ill never forget the way my palms ached from handling cement, nor the smile my wife would flash at the end of the day.
Itll be beautiful, shed say, pressing a kiss to my forehead. Well raise our children here.
It took us three grueling yearsthree years of tightening belts, doing without, late-night worries over bills. But we made it. We put in a proper tiled roof, sleek double-glazed windows, a real bathroom with tiles I chose one by one. I even managed to put in a little paddling pool out back.
For the kids, so they can cool off in summer, Id tell her, chest swelling with pride.
It wasnt fancy, but it was ours. Every wall held a bit of our sweat, our love, our hopes.
My mother-in-law visited often. Wed sit in the garden with cups of tea and shed tell me how happy she was for us. Her other daughter hardly ever dropped by, and when she did, she eyed the house in that odd waya mix of envy and disdain.
Then came that wretched Tuesday.
My wife left early for work, as she always did. She hugged me tight by the door.
Ill see you tonight. I love you.
Those were her last words to me.
They told me it happened in an instanta steel beam, gone in a flash. She hadnt suffered, but I most certainly did.
I sank into despair so sharp and deep I sometimes forgot how to breathe. Two weeks after the funeral, I found out I was going to be a father. Four months along. A little girl. Our dream, only now, it would be just the two of us.
At first, my mother-in-law was by my side every day. She brought meals, held me as I cried, and I believed shed always be there. But a month later, everything changed.
It was a Sunday. I was sitting in the lounge, hand on my belly, when I heard her car pull up. She came in without knocking this time. Didnt meet my eyes.
We need to talk, she said flatly.
Whats the matter? I asked, stomach knotting.
My daughters in a difficult spot. Shes divorced, and she needs somewhere to live.
Im sorry to hear that, I said, meaning it. If she needs to stay for a while
No, she cut me off. She needs the house.
Everything stopped.
Sorry?
Its my land, my mother-in-law said, voice cold as stone. Always has been. You built the house, but you built it on my ground. Now my son is gone.
But we made this place, my voice trembled. Every last pound, every brick
Its sad, what happened, her daughter piped up. But legally, the house sits on our land. The land belongs to us.
Im pregnant with your grandchild! I shouted.
Precisely why, my mother-in-law said quickly. You cant manage on your own. Youll get something for your improvements.
She handed me an envelope. The cheque inside was laughablea slap in the face.
Its an insult, I said. I wont accept it.
Then you leave with nothing, she retorted. The decisions final.
I was left alone in the house wed made with our own hands. I criedfor my wife, my child, the pieces of my broken life.
That night, sleep wouldnt come. I walked each room, letting my hands rest on the walls. I made up my mind.
If I couldnt have this house, no one would.
Next day, I started making calls. The roofers took off the tiles. The windows came out. The pool, piping, wiringstripped out every bit wed paid for.
Are you sure? asked one of the lads.
Absolutely, I said.
My mother-in-law showed up, livid.
What on earth are you doing?!
Im taking whats mine. The land is yourshere you are.
There were no contracts, no paperwork. Just our hard graft.
On the final day, the digger arrived.
Are you certain about this? the operator asked.
This isnt a home any more, I said. The home died with her.
The engine fired up. The walls crashed down one by one. It hurt, but it was also like a weight lifting off me.
When it was over, only rubble remained.
Now Im back at my mums, in a tiny room. Ive sold the roof, windows, everything. That money will keep us going until my daughter arrives.
One day Ill tell her about her mother. About how we built a home with our own hands. And Ill teach her that sometimes, when the world snatches everything away, the most important thing is not to let go of your own dignity.
What do you thinkdid I do the right thing tearing the house down, or should I have walked away quietly and left it all behind?
