I’ll be honest—I’ve held a grudge against my mother for years. The trouble started when my father found someone else. She walked away with her head held high, never once fighting for what we deserved. In my mind, if he was the one who cheated, she should have demanded the flat, the money, everything. Instead, we ended up in a cramped hostel, living in dreadful conditions. There were days we had to beg potatoes from neighbours because there was simply nothing to eat.
My mother always had that soft nature, her whole life. She gave in to everyone, never stood up for herself. I could never understand it. When I was twelve, my grandmother died, and my aunt took the house for herself. Mother didn’t argue, even though we had nowhere to live.
So at fifteen, I was more than ready to leave home. I went to study at a technical college in another town. Later I enrolled at university, and by my second year, a classmate and I started a computer repair service. We were lucky—we were the first in the area. Ten years on, we now have two workshops and three shops. Even though my wife and I lived in a rented flat, the first thing I did was buy a home for my mother. My beloved Sarah was furious.
“How could you do that? Your mother had her whole life to earn a house.”
“She’s not like that. She couldn’t even save up for shoes.”
“Is that really our problem?”
“Maybe not, but she’s still my mother.”
*Illustrative image. Not a documentary account of the situation.*
Over time, I did buy a small house for ourselves. We had two children. Life settled down. But I always helped my mother. I even set up a card for her and put in five hundred pounds every month.
Then I noticed the money on that card disappeared very quickly. So I drove over to see her and found her cupboards nearly bare.
“Where did the money go? What did you spend it on?”
“You know how prices are these days. Plus my medicine, the bills.”
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I didn’t believe her. I decided to keep an eye on things. The next time I added money, she withdrew it straight away. I went round to see what she’d bought. But the fridge was empty again.
“Mum, what did you buy?”
“Son, look, there’s a situation. Your cousin’s having trouble—my sister keeps complaining, asking for help, and I can’t say no.”
“Mum, they’re using you! Mark himself told me he’s building a house. I’m not going to fund his project while you’ve got nothing to eat.”
Furious, I went home and told my wife everything. She gave me her advice.
“You’ve done enough for your mother. Don’t give her another penny. If she needs something, buy the shopping yourself and take it round, or get her the medicine she needs.”
The next day I took the card back. She was offended, said I had plenty of money and shouldn’t refuse family. But I don’t agree.
What do you think—was I right or wrong?
More life stories here – https://t.me/+xOpeSMR55r5hZTIyLooking back now, I still wonder if I was too harsh, but I truly believed I had no other choice.
