“Why I’m Not Obliged to Care for My Mother-in-Law in Her Old Age”
“I won’t lift a finger for my mother-in-law—she shouldn’t even dream of it!” spits Emily, her voice trembling with years of bitterness. “That woman has no right to expect my support. In seventeen years of marriage to her son, she’s never once lifted a hand to help us—not with money, not with anything. Worse, she’s never uttered a single kind word! She always insisted she owed no one anything. Now I see she was right. But I owe her nothing in return!”
Emily recounts her story from her modest but cosy flat in a quiet Yorkshire town. With two teenage sons and a mortgage they’ve fought like a relentless foe, she’s certain: without her own mother, they’d have drowned long ago. Her mum never gave them money, but she took on the children—nursery runs, sick days, school pick-ups, homework, football practice, meals. Thanks to her, Emily and her husband could work without drowning in chores.
All these years, they’ve toiled nonstop to pay the mortgage and secure their boys’ futures. Emily remembers the strain of juggling work and parenting, especially when the lads were small. “Without Mum, we’d have had nothing,” she sighs. “With two kids, I’d never have managed.”
And her mother-in-law? All this time, she’s lived solely for herself. The grandkids only saw her at Christmas, and even then, barely. There were always “more important” things—girls’ trips to Brighton, personal errands. Emily swallowed her pride more than once, asking her to babysit, only to be met with frosty refusal. “I raised my son alone—you’ll manage,” the woman snipped. “Don’t expect my help.” After a few tries, Emily stopped asking. Why humiliate herself?
“My mum practically raised my boys,” Emily says, warmth softening her tone. “If she ever needs help, we’ll move heaven and earth. But my mother-in-law? Yes, she’s my husband’s mum, and maybe some moral code says we should care. But there’s no bond, no love. She chose this distance.”
Emily falls silent, watching the first snow swirl outside. Pain and resolve war in her eyes. What does the woman expect? Does she think age won’t touch her? That she’ll stay strong forever? Emily shakes her head, as if clearing the thought. “Life’s a boomerang,” she murmurs. “You reap what you sow. Love, respect, help—they’re earned. She never even tried.”
Yet doubt nags her. Should she rise above the slights? Must duty to her husband’s family erase the past? Age spares no one—should she care for this woman like her own mother? Or does every action carry its own consequence? Emily doesn’t know, and the question gnaws at her.
What do you think? Should Emily grit her teeth and help, despite years of cold indifference? Or is it fair that each gets what they’ve earned? Life collects debts, but who decides how they’re paid? Perhaps there’s no right answer—only that family ties test us, teetering between duty and what’s truly just.
