Ten Years as the Family Cook for My Son—And Not a Hint of Gratitude: A Retired Teacher’s Decade of Selfless Devotion, Lost Freedom, and the Joy of Rediscovering Herself at Sixty-Five

Author Mitsuko NagasakiReading 4 minViews 2

Diana Smith spent ten years as the cook in her sons household, yet barely received a word of thanks.

Once a dedicated teacher, Diana retired at fifty-five, and soon moved into her son Roberts house in Birmingham. She decided to leave her own cosy flat untouchedshe never rented it out, perhaps out of caution or simply the comfort of familiarity.

Surprisingly, Diana was grateful for the way she got along with her son and daughter-in-law, Emily. Their home was harmoniousno quarrels, no raised voices. They seemed to share the chores with unusual peace.

Ive always felt Diana made a real sacrifice. She moved in just after her grandson, Oliver, turned one, and stayed with them for nearly a decade.

When Emily returned to work, the bulk of household duties fell to Diana. I can only describe it as a relentless daily grindshe was responsible for Oliver, which is overwhelming responsibility in itself. Not everyone would take it on.

From dawn till dusk, she was nanny, cook, and cleaner. The young couple arrived back at seven in the evening, only then was she free to catch her breath, knowing everything would start anew come morning.

When Oliver went off to primary school, shed take him there on the bus and pick him up again most daysuntil he was around ten. Her responsibilities as a cook and maid never faded.

Diana once confided that she was so tired in the evenings, shed doze off before the news even finished on telly.

She had no time for chats with friends or any leisure at all. Whenever there was a holiday, Robert and Emily would visit friends, leaving the lad with Diana every time.

As Oliver neared his tenth birthday, it seemed Dianas unpaid job might never end, but fate intervened. One day, she overheard Emily tell Robert, Your mum uses too much detergent, the laundry smells like chemicals. Could you mention it quietly? Ten years of washing, and only now was it a problem!

Diana didnt show she was hurt, swallowing the comment.

Soon after, Emily suggested the boy should have Dianas room while she could move into the box room. That was when Diana realised it was high time to leave.

She packed her things, returned to her own flat, cleaned it up, and settled back into her old home.

What happened next was tellingRobert and Emily took offence at her leaving. They had grown so used to her help; perhaps they believed shed remain there forever. It was as if her own needs were invisiblehousework and caring seen as automatic, her presence taken for granted.

They stopped contacting her completely. Yet Diana, ever the optimist, is convinced things will mend in time.

Now, at sixty-five, she finds real joy: living for herself. Theres no constant rush, no weighty responsibilities. She needs so little and finds contentment in simplicity.

Its as the old song goes: A second youth comes to those who kept hold of the first. Diana has rediscovered the magic of freedomthe right to live for herself, to let go of endless duties.

It may sound dramatic, but it takes true selflessness to carry such a load. Few will ever appreciate all the unseen work. Even our own children quickly become accustomed to clean laundry, hot meals, tidy rooms, help with homework and someone always caring for their child.

We often forget to thank those who make life so comfortable, believing their sacrifices are simply normal. But once in a while, stepping back reminds us to value those who give so much, and that living for oneself is not selfish, but sometimes necessary for renewal and happiness.

John and Mary John never wanted to leave his village for the city. He loved the open fields, the river, the woods, and his neighbours. He decided to start his own farm, raising pigs for meat, hoping to grow his business if luck was on his side. He dreamed of building a big house; he already had a car, modest and old, and had invested his grandmother’s house money into the business. But he had another cherished dream: to marry Mary and make her the lady of his big house. They were already dating, and Mary knew John’s business wasn’t thriving, and his house was only just being built. Mary was a beauty. She never planned to achieve anything on her own. “Why was I given beauty, if not to be taken care of by my husband? I just need to find someone who’ll take care of everything for me. My beauty is worth a lot,” she’d say to her girlfriends. “John’s building a house and already has a car,” said her friend Lucy. “He just needs time; it might take him a while to get going.” “But I want everything right away,” Mary would pout. “Who knows when John will ever make it big. He doesn’t have the money.” John loved Mary but knew her feelings weren’t quite what he hoped for. Still, he believed she’d love him with time. Everything might have gone well—if not for the arrival of Tim. Tim had come to the village with a friend, visiting his grandmother on holiday. He looked down on the local girls and was openly bored at the village club, until the beautiful Mary appeared. At first, Mary ignored the outsider—but once she learned he was from a wealthy family and his father a well-known city official, she quickly shifted her attention to him. Tim was older, experienced with women, smooth-talking, and handsome. He often brought Mary lavish bouquets—flowers she knew weren’t sold in the village—so he must have had them delivered, which she appreciated. John saw her accepting Tim’s flowers and got upset. “Don’t take his flowers, are you trying to make me angry?” he pleaded, but she only laughed. “They’re just flowers! What’s the big deal?” John even confronted Tim: “Don’t give Mary your flowers, she’s my girl, and I have plans for her!” Tim brushed him off, and a fight broke out—fortunately John’s friends broke it up. After that, things were off between John and Mary. She avoided him, and he felt hurt. She also understood Tim was only in the village for a month before returning to the city. “I have to come up with something—grab Tim’s attention and go to the city with him. There’s no future for me here—I’d better act quickly,” she thought. It didn’t take much to lure Tim home. Her parents were off to town to the market. Mary timed things so her parents would catch them together. Her father, strict and stubborn, found them both: she in her dressing gown, Tim scrambling to pull on his trousers. “What’s going on here?” her father demanded. Mary lowered her eyes, Tim shuffled awkwardly. “I see,” her father said. “Right, Tim—you need to marry our daughter now, or you’ll be in trouble. Come in here, let’s talk.” What was said, no one knows, but the next day, the young couple went into town to register their marriage, her father driving them, her mother packing them for their move to the city. The village buzzed with the news. John was devastated, but tried not to show it. Tim cursed himself. “Why did I even come here? Why did I fall for the village beauty’s charms? She’s not as naive as she seemed—she trapped me!” But Mary longed for city life, happiness, luxury. “That’s fine—I’ll love him so much, have his babies, he’ll be glad it worked out, just hope his parents accept me…” But to her surprise, Tim’s parents were delighted that he’d brought home such a pretty, down-to-earth country bride. They were tired of all the fancy city girls who only cared about money. Mary would feed and care for their son—she obviously knew how to keep a home. “Come in, Mary, make yourself at home,” his mother Anna greeted her warmly, and his father, Michael, smiled kindly. Mary wanted to be a good housewife. Their flat was big and comfortable. Tim even realised that Mary wasn’t as manipulative as he first thought. “Yes, she played it well with the marriage—caught me good—but she does seem to believe we’ll be happy,” Tim mused, though he didn’t believe it himself. Tim made plans to party after the wedding—he had plenty of lady friends in town. But one evening at dinner, Mary dropped a bombshell: “I’m pregnant—we’re going to have a baby!” “Congratulations, Mary, we’ve been longing for grandchildren!” Anna beamed. Tim realised there was no point arguing—the baby was happening. Soon came the wedding. Tim’s parents gave them a furnished flat. Mary noticed Tim wasn’t thrilled to be a father. “He’ll come around when the baby arrives—he’ll realise what happiness it is,” she thought, little knowing the kind of man Tim really was. After the wedding, Tim started staying out late. “My job means lots of trips away,” he’d say, and she believed him, not knowing what he really did. She never complained to his parents about his absences or the nights he didn’t come home, just waited and cooked nice meals for his return, keeping the house tidy—though she missed her village, friends, and parents, and, strangely, found herself thinking more and more about John. Now she began to doubt she’d made the right choice. When she asked if her husband loved her, he dodged the question. Anna saw her daughter-in-law was downcast and realised her own son wasn’t much of a husband. The birth of their son was a joyous event for the family—even Tim was momentarily moved, but it didn’t last. The crying, the sleepless nights, nappies irritated him; Mary, worn out, could no longer make delicious meals or keep up with everything. Tim wanted to escape. He soon discovered many of his old flames now shunned him. “Who wants a married man?” He never told anyone about his wife. She had no education—just a village girl. “What could I do with her when our son gets older? The thought of my wife working as a cleaner or at a market stalls would ruin the family’s reputation. Guess I’ll just have to support them alone. Alimony would be cheaper.” Tim now had a permanent mistress—Katie, with her own flat, well-off, no interest in kids. That suited him; with her he could relax, party, travel out of town. “Katie, if you only knew how that chaos at home gets to me. I don’t love my wife, and the baby’s a pain too. Sure, Mary’s beautiful, but she’s just a country girl—nothing in common, I’m sick of it all. How am I supposed to go out with her, she’s never seen anything beyond her cows and her village.” Mary realised her dream of family life with Tim was slipping away—and suspected he had someone else. He’d come home smelling of another woman’s perfume, lipstick marks on his clothes. Tim was constantly irritable, ignored their son, snapped at her, even raised his hand. They lived in the village now, already expecting another baby. Mary called her mother, complaining, but got: “We never forced you to marry Tim—you made that choice. We thought you’d marry John. You chose your own path, now deal with it. When you’ve had enough, come home—for good.” Mary was crushed. She even checked Tim’s phone while he slept. The things she read between him and Katie left her speechless. She told her mother-in-law, who said: “If you’re thinking of divorce—remember, we’ll fight for custody. My husband has influence. Whatever his faults, Tim is the father, has good earnings, a flat. He can give the child a lot—what can you provide, without education or a job?” Her son had a fever, teething, and Tim, sick of the crying, got messages from Katie, who was waiting. He replied he’d come when the child settled and Mary fell asleep. Katie wrote: “Just give them the sleeping pills I gave you, they’ll be out in no time.” Tim left his phone on the table while in the shower. Mary saw Katie’s message—and was horrified. “What if he really does drug us? What if he poisons us…” While Tim was in the shower, Mary called John and told him everything. “I’ll come get you and take you home.” “His parents want to take my son away.” “Don’t worry, it’s just threats. Try to calm down, and get your son to sleep. Let your husband leave, and then call me—I’ll be nearby.” Mary rocked her baby until he finally slept beside her. She pretended to be asleep. She heard her husband look in, then leave the house. Quickly, she packed a few things, called John—who arrived promptly and drove her to his home. Tim came home the next evening and found Mary and the baby gone. He called his parents. “No, son, Mary hasn’t been here. Has she really run away? I’m calling the police,” Anna fretted. “Mum, don’t. Don’t call. I’m actually relieved she left. I’m tired of her and the baby. Let her live as she wants—please, Mum.” He talked her round in the end. Time passed. John and Mary married after her divorce. They lived in a big house, and soon were expecting another child. At last, Mary realised that John was her happiness.