They told her straight to her face: “We don’t want a daughter-in-law like that!”
I’m 57, without a family or children, but I want to offer some advice to all parents—don’t interfere in the lives of your daughters and sons. Don’t force them to live by your rules, because what makes you happy might not make them happy.
I’m a living example of how, in their eagerness to provide the best for me, my parents drove away the woman I loved more than myself.
Mary came from a humble background, while my parents had inherited land and properties and prided themselves on it.
When I took her to meet them, they outright dismissed her, saying they wouldn’t welcome her as a daughter-in-law. And she left—offended, yet with her head held high.
She refused to elope with me somewhere far away, just the two of us.
She said that sooner or later, my family would do everything they could to split us up.
She married a neighbor—someone who, like her, had little to his name.
The two of them worked hard and built a house on the outskirts of town.
They had three children and every time I saw her in the street, she was always smiling and seemed happy.
Once, I asked her if she loved her husband.
Mary, who came from a poor family.
She replied that she had realized that for a family, stability and understanding between spouses are more important. Without those, you can’t live on love alone.
I didn’t agree with her, but I couldn’t argue; I had no right because I felt like a traitor.
I never got over Mary and, unlike her, I didn’t marry.
I couldn’t imagine living with a woman and having children without loving her.
My parents tried to match me with girls they liked and thought were suitable for me, but I firmly rejected their attempts.
Eventually, they gave up and began to plead with me to choose a wife according to my own taste, to continue our family line.
But I didn’t want anyone other than Mary. By then, she had already settled her life and I had no place in it.
My parents grew old, fell ill, and one by one passed away.
I was left alone in our sprawling three-story house.
I meet friends less and less because they are busy with their grandchildren and have little time for me. I tend to avoid them as well.
I’m happy for their joy, but it also pains me.
On weekends, I fill my time by painting and repairing playground equipment in our town—swings, slides, climbing frames.
Sometimes, I also help out with the gardens of local kindergartens.
I do this entirely voluntarily and for free because I don’t need money. In this way, I bring joy to other people’s children and grandchildren.
I sold all the land and properties from my parents.
With the proceeds, I made donations to several schools and homes for abandoned children.
A friend asked me why I don’t also give money to a retirement home. But I don’t want to.
As harsh as it sounds, it’s my way of getting back at my parents for leaving me alone.
Besides, the future lies with the children, not the elderly, right?
Children need more care and a good start in life.
And when I die, my house will go to the school I graduated from.
If they want to use it for something, they can; if not, they can sell it.
The important thing is that it goes towards a good cause.
