I spent decades building a life for my family, never imagining I’d be cast aside by the very son I raised. But when he chose his wife’s wishes over his mother’s place in the home, he set off a chain of events he never saw coming.
My name is Evelyn, and I am 67 years old. Until last fall, I lived in the house my husband and I built together in our 30s. Then my son kicked me out of it, saying he needed it more, but he didn’t expect that his actions would lead to more heartache for him.
The house I brought up my son in was built brick by brick by my husband and me. We managed to transform a modest two-story house into a home filled with warmth, laughter, and love. I imagined I would live there until my last breath.
But life, as it often does, has a cruel sense of humor.
My son, Daniel, used to be the kind of boy who would melt your heart with a smile. When he was small, he’d follow me around the house like a shadow, tugging at my apron just to show me a new doodle he’d made on scrap paper.
Every birthday, from the time he was six until the day he turned 25, Daniel gave me something handmade and meaningful — whether it was a song he wrote, a poem he scribbled, or a painting he stayed up all night to finish. I still have every single one of them tucked away in a chest under my bed.
When he went off to college, he still called every Sunday. We’d talk for hours — about school, friends, life. He’d drive home every weekend, and we’d spend the mornings in the kitchen baking muffins or just sitting at the counter with mugs of tea, talking about nothing and everything.
But everything changed when he met Mary.
Mary was polite at first, and even sweet. But I could tell from the beginning that there was something cold underneath that smile. The way she clung to Daniel, the way she subtly corrected him in front of others, the way she’d glance at me as if I were a piece of furniture that didn’t match the rest of the decor — it all made my skin crawl.
They married five years ago. Since then, I’ve barely seen my grandchildren ten times. There have been no birthday invites; they never call first, and they’ve never invited my husband or me to a single birthday party.
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