I started writing my son letters every day to let him know how much I missed him after he suggested that I go into a nursing facility. He never responded, but one day a stranger showed up with a plan to take me home and an explanation. I was diagnosed with osteoporosis at the age of 81, which makes it challenging for me to move around on my own. It was difficult for my son Tyler and his wife Macy to take care of me, so they decided I should live in a nursing home.
“We can’t care for you all day, Mom,” Tyler clarified. We need to get to work. We don’t provide care.” I had always made an effort to avoid them, so I was perplexed by his abrupt change of heart. I would spend most of my time in my room, getting about the house with my walker. “I swear, I’ll keep out of your way. Don’t put me in a nursing home, please. I begged to stay in this house that your father built for me for the rest of my life.
Tyler, however, disregarded my worries, claiming that the home my late husband James had constructed was “too big for me.” “Come on, Mom,” he urged her. Let Macy and I take care of the house! We could have many offices and a gym with all this room. There’s lots of space for remodelling.”
That’s when I realised Tyler didn’t care about me; he just wanted to keep the house for himself. I was devastated to learn that my son had become conceited, and I was holding back tears. “Where did I go wrong?” When I went to bed that evening, I pondered. It appeared that I was misguided in my belief that I had created a thoughtful and kind man. I never thought my own son would turn against me.
I was taken to a nearby nursing home by Tyler and Macy, who assured me that the staff would take care of me 24/7. I was reassured by Tyler, “Don’t worry, Mom; we’ll visit as often as we can.” I felt a little better after hearing him say that since they would still be coming to visit, maybe living in a nursing home wouldn’t be that horrible after all. I had no idea that Tyler had only made the vow to get rid of me.
At the nursing home, every day seemed to go on forever. I yearned to be with my family rather than surrounded by strangers, even if the nurses and other residents were nice. I wrote letters to Tyler every day, requesting a visit or just to enquire on their well-being, as I didn’t have a phone or iPad. However, I got no reaction, and nobody paid me a visit. I gave up hope that anyone would ever show up after two years.
Every night I prayed, “Please, take me home,” but after two years I made an effort to tell myself to give up. After that, I was taken aback when my nurse informed me that a man in his forties had been to the front desk and asked to see me. “Has my son finally come to visit?” I thought to myself as I quickly picked up my walker and headed to the front. I grinned when I got there, thinking it would be Tyler, but it was actually a man I hadn’t seen in a long time. He cried out, “Mom!” and gave me a tight hug.
“Ron? Ron, is that you?” Surprised, I asked. “Mom, this is me. How are you doing? I apologise for the extended delay in my visit. “I came straight to your house after returning from Europe,” he said.
“My home? Were Tyler and Macy present? I said, perplexed, “They placed me in this nursing home a few years ago, and I haven’t seen them since.” Ron gave me a sombre expression and gestured for me to take a seat.
He started telling me stories about the two years I had spent at the nursing home as we sat across from each other on the couch. “I’m sorry to have to break the news to you, Mom. “I assumed you were aware already,” he said. Tyler and Macy perished in a home fire the previous year. I just learnt about it when I visited your house and saw it was unoccupied. All of your unread letters were in the mailbox when I went to check for any information on your whereabouts,” he said.
It was unbelievable to me what Ron was saying. I was angry with my son for what he had done to me, but I was also quite saddened to hear of his passing. I grieved for Tyler and my daughter-in-law, Macy, all day long. Ron held me close while I sobbed, giving me consolation in quiet until I felt ready to speak again.
I had once accepted a boy named Ron into my house. As kids, he and Tyler had been best friends and best of friends. Ron was raised by his grandmother after his parents went away, and he lived in poverty as opposed to Tyler, who had everything he could ever want. Up until he departed for college in Europe, I cared for him as if he were my own son, feeding and dressing him. After securing a lucrative job in Europe, Ron never went back to the US, and we gradually lost contact. It wasn’t until he appeared at the nursing home that I thought I might see him again.
When I had settled down, he remarked, “Mom,” quite softly. “You don’t seem to belong in this assisted living facility. Permit me to bring you home. I would adore looking after you.” Again, I couldn’t help but cry. This man, not even connected by blood, was willing to take me in and take care of me after my own son had deserted me. “Would you really do that for me?” I responded.
“You know what, Mom? Asking is not even necessary. I am the person I am now because of you. “I am nothing without you,” Ron hugged me.
Ron helped me pack that evening and took me to his recently acquired house. I found out there that he had a big family, and they all gave me a warm welcome. I lived a happy and peaceful life for the remainder of my years, surrounded by people who truly loved and cared for me.
