Mum looked into her eyes and said, “You are not worthy of being our daughter-in-law!”
I am 57 years old. I have no family, no children, and probably never will. I’m not looking for sympathy or understanding; I just want to share my story to warn parents: don’t meddle in your children’s lives. Don’t build their happiness for them. For one day, you might realise that you’ve destroyed the most important thing—their love.
I am a living example of how parental pride and arrogance can ruin a son’s life.
A Love Not With Approval
I was 25 when I met her—Katherine. An ordinary, kind girl from a working-class family. She didn’t have wealth, designer clothes, or influential relatives. But she had what others did not—a heart that beat in time with mine.
When I brought her home, my mother looked down on her and declared loudly, “We don’t need a daughter-in-law like her.”
Father backed her up. Katherine was literally shoved out the door. They wouldn’t listen to me; they wouldn’t let me speak.
“You are our only son! We raised you, educated you, and you bring home a pauper?!”
Katherine stood there silently, but I could see the hurt growing in her eyes. She didn’t cause a scene or burst into tears. She simply met my gaze, shrugged her shoulders, and walked away.
I rushed after her, trying to persuade her to leave with me to another town, to start afresh. But she was wiser than I was.
“Your parents will do everything to ruin our lives,” she said. “They won’t leave us in peace. I don’t want to live in constant conflict.”
And she left.
Lost Years
A few years later, I learned she had married an old acquaintance. He was also from a humble background, but together they started from scratch, worked hard, built a home, and raised children.
I occasionally saw her on the street. She always smiled. She seemed happy.
One day, I couldn’t hold back any longer and asked her, “Do you love him?”
She looked at me with a hint of sadness and replied, “In a family, respect, trust, and stability matter more than love. Without them, no feelings can save you.”
I didn’t agree. In my heart, she remained my one true love.
But I never met another woman to whom I could say the same.
An Empty House
I never married.
My parents pleaded, trying to set me up with girls from “good families.” But I couldn’t. I didn’t want to live with someone I didn’t love.
As the years went by, they eventually accepted it. They began to ask me to at least marry and have heirs, but I didn’t care.
Years passed. My parents aged, fell ill, and passed away, one after another.
And I remained in our large house, all alone.
Now my friends have families, children, and grandchildren. I see them less frequently because I don’t want to feel that pain—the pain of others’ happiness, which could have been mine.
Finding Solace in Others’ Children
To fill the void, I began volunteering at playgrounds—painting slides, repairing swings. Sometimes, I tidied up the yards of nursery schools.
I didn’t seek any payment. I sold all my parents’ land and inheritance.
I donated part to charity and gave to schools and children’s homes.
A friend once asked me, “Why don’t you donate to nursing homes?”
I smirked.
“This is my way of getting back at the parents who made me lonely.”
Yes, it’s cruel. But now I believe only in children. They alone are the future.
And when I am gone, my house will be handed to the school I attended. Let them use it for good.
I can no longer change my life. But perhaps I can assist other children so that their paths turn out differently.
