My son, Michael, surprised me with a cottage in the countryside, but when we got there, I realized it was all a trick. After a while, I discovered the real reason why he did this, and I still can’t forgive him. What would you do?
Hello! My name is Richard, and I’m 68 years old. I never thought I’d be asking strangers for advice, but here I am. I need some outside perspective on this.
For some background: I’ve been a single dad for most of my adult life. My wife, Emma, passed away from cancer when our son, Michael (currently 35 years old), was just ten years old.
It was a difficult time for both of us, but we managed to pull through together.
Since then, it’s been just the two of us against the world. I did my best to be both mother and father to him, working hard to give him every opportunity I could.
Growing up, Michael was a good kid. He had his moments of rebellion, sure, but overall, he was kind, hardworking, and seemed to have a good head on his shoulders.
He did well in school, went to college on a partial scholarship, and landed a good job in finance after graduation.
I’ve always been immensely proud of him, watching him grow into what I thought was a successful adult.
We remained close even after he moved out, talking on the phone regularly and having dinner together at least once a week.
That’s why what happened over a year ago came as such a shock.
It was a Tuesday evening when Michael came to my house, brimming with excitement. “Dad,” he said, “I’ve got amazing news! I bought you a cottage in the countryside!”
“A cottage? Michael, what are you talking about?“
“It’s perfect, Dad. It’s peaceful, serene, and just what you need. You’re going to love it!”
I was taken aback. Move to a cottage far from here? That seemed like too much. “Michael, you didn’t have to do that. I’m perfectly happy here.”
But he insisted! “No, Dad, you deserve it. The house you’re in now is TOO BIG FOR YOU ALONE. It’s time for a change. Trust me, this is going to be great for you.”
I have to admit, I was skeptical. The house I was living in had been our family home for over 30 years. It was where Michael grew up, where Emma and I had built our life together.
But my son seemed so excited, so sure that this was the right move. And I trusted him completely. After all, we’d always been honest with each other.
So, against my better judgment, I agreed to move and sell my house.
The next few days, I was packing and preparing to leave, while Michael handled most of the details. He assured me that everything was taken care of.
He was being so helpful that I pushed aside my lingering doubts.
Finally, the day came for us to drive to my new home. As we got in the car, Michael was chatting away about all the amenities this new place had.
But as we drove further and further from the city, I started feeling uneasy. The scenery became more and more desolate. It wasn’t woodsy or hillside.
Our familiar neighbor and the bustling streets of the city were gone and all that was left were empty, ugly fields, and even an abandoned farm.
The cottages nearby, which Michael knew I had admired and considered buying when his mother was alive, were cozy, homey places, surrounded by nature. This was the opposite.
“Michael,” I wondered, “are you sure we’re going the right way? This doesn’t look like cottage country to me.”
He assured me we were on the right track, but I noticed he wouldn’t quite meet my eyes.
After about another hour of driving, we turned onto a long, winding driveway. At the end of it stood a large, boring building.
My heart sank as I read the sign: “Sunset Haven.”
This wasn’t a cottage. It was a nursing home.
I turned to Michael, trying to quell my emotions. “What is this? What’s going on?”
“Dad,” he said, but couldn’t even look me in the eyes. “I’m sorry. I know I said it was a cottage, but… this is better for you. You’ll be taken care of here.”
“Taken care of? I don’t need to be taken care of! I’m perfectly capable of living on my own. Why would you lie to me?“
“Dad, please.” Michael finally turned to me, and his eyes were pleading. “You’ve been forgetting things lately. I’m worried about you living alone. This place has great facilities, and there will always be someone around if you need help.”
“Forgetting things? Everyone forgets things sometimes!” I yelled, and angry tears fell from my eyes. “This isn’t right, Michael. Take me home right now.”
Michael shook his head and dropped the real bombshell of the day. “I can’t do that, Dad. I’ve… I’ve already sold the house.”
I felt like the ground had disappeared from under me. I knew I had agreed to sell, but I had all the time in the world. I wanted to meet the new owners, pick a nice family, and hell, tell them exactly how to care for the old Elm tree in the yard.
How could he have sold it without my knowledge or consent?
I demanded answers, but Michael was evasive. He mentioned something about having power of attorney and doing what was best for me.
I shut down after that, and the next few hours were a blur.
Somehow, I ended up checked into Sunset Haven and was led to a small room with a narrow bed and a window overlooking a parking lot.
The walls were a sickly shade of beige, and the air smelled of disinfectant and old people.
My old home retained the scent of my wife’s cinnamon coffee cake, and I never changed her decor choices. My only upgrades were new appliances when needed, and Michael had given me an Alexa.
But now, this sad, clinical place was my new home.
I couldn’t do anything about it, either. I thought about Michael’s words while I spent the next few days in shock and anger. Was I so far gone that I forgot everything?
Was this the right thing? Had I caused Michael harm? Had I been diagnosed with dementia or something?
I couldn’t imagine any of that, but Michael’s parting look of guilt and concern left me dubious.
The staff at Sunset Haven were kind enough, and they tried to engage me in activities to make me feel welcome. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.
It was during an afternoon of more stewing in my feelings that I overheard a conversation that made everything even worse.
I was sitting in the common room, pretending to read a magazine, when I heard two nurses talking in hushed tones nearby.
“Poor Mr. Johnson,” one of them said. “Did you hear about his son?”
“No, what happened?”
“Apparently, he had some pretty big gambling debts. That’s why he sold his dad’s house and put him in here.”
I felt like I’d been punched in the gut. Gambling debts? Was that the real reason behind all of this? Had my son sold me out, quite literally, to cover his own mistakes?
I was even more devastated.
The son I’d raised, the boy I thought I knew better than anyone, had discarded me for selfish reasons.
I thought back to all the times I’d helped him out of tight spots, all the sacrifices I’d made to give him a good life.
Luckily, fate intervened in the form of an old friend. Jack, a lawyer I’d known for years, came to Sunset Haven to visit his sister and was shocked to find me there.
When I told him what happened, he was outraged. He offered to look into the legality of what Michael had done.
It turned out that the sale of my house had been rushed, with several legal corners cut in the process. With Jack’s help, I was able to contest the sale.
After a long battle that ended with Michael having to return the money he took from the buyers and pay all the legal fees, I finally got my home back and moved out of Sunset Haven.
Now, here’s where I need advice.
My son has been trying to apologize. He showed up at my house last week, and I hardly recognized him. He looked terrible, like he hadn’t slept or eaten properly in weeks.
When I let him in, he broke down.
He told me how he’d started gambling to cope with stress at work, how things had spiraled out of control, and how he’d convinced himself that selling my house and putting me in a home was the best solution for everyone.
He swore he’d been getting help for his addiction and was committed to making things right.
“I was wrong, Dad,” he sobbed. “So wrong. Can you ever forgive me?“
Part of me wants to let bygones be bygones. He’s my son, and we only have each other in this world. But another part of me is still so angry and hurt.
How can I trust him again after what he did? He lied to me, manipulated me, and stole my home to cover up his own mistakes.
Even if he’s truly sorry now, how do I know he won’t do something like this again in the future?
What would you do in my place?
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
Poor Mom Lives in Old Trailer with Son and Never Lets Anyone in until She Gets Hospitalized
Before she passes out and is taken to the hospital, an impoverished woman never lets anyone inside her run-down trailer. Her life is ultimately altered irrevocably by the subsequent events.
“Hey, young one! Keep away from him! Barbara let out a scream and hurried to where her son Timothy was playing with a child called Harry. “You have no right to come play with my son here. He doesn’t associate with weirdos and recluses!
“Mum!” Timothy started to cry. “That’s not Harry at all! I invited him to play with me and the other kids from the neighborhood because we are friends.
“Stop talking, Tim! You’re not aware of the potential risk that some people pose. You are aware that his mother is a deranged person who never allows anyone to be around her or enter her ridiculous trailer? How often have I told you not to go visit him already?
“Please, mom! It’s a nice boy, Harry. Simply said, we Harry cut Timothy off just as he was getting started.
“Don’t worry, Tim. He turned to face Barbara and said, “My mom says that mothers are always right, but Mrs. Anderson.” “My mother is a sweetheart. She is so afraid that she won’t let anyone into our trailer.
“Afraid?” Barbara gave him a sardonic chuckle. “We ought to be terrified of her! She must be planning something shady! Anyway, remember this, child: you will never again play with my son! Did you get the message?
Harry became so overcome with emotion that he was unable to talk. He ran out of the park to where he always parked his old white trailer, beneath a parched tree that marked the edge of a woodland that connected two suburbs.
Tracy, his mother, became concerned when she noticed he was sobbing all the time. “Honey, what’s the issue? What’s causing your tears? Are you in pain?
Harry sobbed, “It was one of our neighbors again, mom.” “Mom, they call you names all the time. I detest that! I detest all of them!
Tracy gave him a hug and whispered, “Oh, honey.” “Never harbor hatred for someone. People tend to say hurtful things when they’re upset. It implies neither that they despise you nor…
“No, mother! You’re not getting it! Harry shot back. They have no interest in comprehending you, myself, or anybody else. Are you even aware of the events of today? Mrs. Anderson advised me not to play with Timothy because I’m a hermit’s son and called you a recluse. Mom, please let’s get out of this town. I wish to leave this place.
Tracy was at a loss for words at that time. She was unable to inform Harry that her supervisor had sacked her that very afternoon and that her savings were running low. There was a moment before she said, “Honey.” “Maybe we should put off making a decision until the following month?”
“But why, mother? Why should we put up with their taunts? The boy became irrational. “Aww…all right, just do what you want! He moaned, “I want to spend some time alone,” and turned to leave.
Tracy started crying as soon as Harry departed. She berated herself for being an awful mother and a failure in life who had let her son down in addition to herself. She got up slowly and went to her bed, where she sobbed while holding a picture of Harry. Before long, she was fast asleep and unable to think of anything.
Harry returned to the trailer after nearly an hour had passed. “On my way back, Mom, I picked up some bread.” Would you kindly prepare the french toast for tomorrow morning? As he walked in and shut the door, he said.
Tracy was sleeping on the bed when he discovered something strange about the way she was lying there. “Mum? After asking, “Did you have dinner?” and giving her a little shake, Tracy ended up on the ground. “Mum! What took place? Let your eyes open! As the youngster realized his mother was not breathing, he began to cry.
He swiftly looked for Tracy’s phone and made a 911 call. Tracy was hauled away by the ambulance after a short while, which seemed like an eternity to the little kid. Harry sobbed while sitting outside the trailer, covering his face with his hands.
A voice suddenly cut him off. “Boy, what are you doing here by yourself? What happened to your mother?
Harry observed an older woman standing in front of him when he looked up. She smiled and said, “Don’t worry, I often see you and your mother here before I leave for work, so I know you two.” “Is everything in order?”
Harry felt a tiny bit of relief. “Mom fainted and was taken to the hospital.” I’m concerned for her.
The woman let out a gasp. “Don’t worry, she will be alright. Did they let you know which hospital they brought her to?
Yes, they provided me with a number and address. They wouldn’t let me accompany her because I’m a minor.
What if you spent the evening at my house? Tomorrow morning, we can visit her.
“However,” Harry faltered. “Why do you assist me? Our neighbors don’t think well of us. Do you not also believe that we are?
The woman started giggling. Harry, try not to let stuff like this affect you. In some manner, everyone is cruel.
“How did you know my name, wow?” Never before have we…
“Well, when I get home late from work, I see that you’re playing around here a lot.” You refuse to go back and sleep despite your mother’s persistent pleas.
“Oh!” With a smirk, Harry embarrassedly rubbed the back of his head. “I apologize; I didn’t adequately introduce myself. Harry Stevens is who I am.
“Hello Harry, nice to meet you. You may address me as Mrs. Taylor. So, are you interested in coming to supper with me tonight?
The boy said, “Sure,” and went with Mrs. Taylor to her house. The boy stayed at her residence that night after they had dinner together. Tracy had fainted from stress and tiredness, they found out when they went to see her the next day. Mrs. Taylor took over to take after Harry while she was in the hospital, as the doctors predicted she would be there for some time.
“Ma’am, you have my sincere gratitude,” Tracy remarked to Mrs. Taylor. “I’m very happy Harry is doing well. She turned to Harry and said, “Honey, would you please wait outside while I speak with Mrs. Taylor?” “I have important things to talk about.”
Yes, mother.
Tracy burst into tears as Harry left. “We appreciate your assistance, ma’am. We are truly unable to repay your kindness.
“I’ve seen you by yourself quite a bit. How come you don’t interact with your neighbors? Although they can be bothersome occasionally, they aren’t too bad.
“Mrs. Taylor, I don’t blame them for treating me badly. I kept quiet about my living situation since I felt ashamed of it. Being an orphan, I was sure I could care for my son after my spouse passed away, but things didn’t work out. We had to get out of our big mansion and drive a little car. I used to be a waitress in a restaurant to help support my son while I was a struggling writer, but I got fired yesterday for being consistently late to work. I’m just a failure, nothing more. Kindly accept Harry. I am unable to care for him. Would you please…I simply want to stop living!” She sobbed uncontrollably.
“You ought not to say that! In all time! For now, concentrate on recovering quickly! Young lady, you never know where life will lead you!
Mrs. Taylor was correct, of course, when she emphasized that anything can happen in life at any time.
Sitting at a table, Tracy autographed copies of “The Woman: Life Through the Odds,” her debut book, which was already a New York Times bestseller. There was a sizable group waiting for her to sign the copies, and she was resplendent in a suit.
This day, exactly a year ago, she had come home from the hospital. Mrs. Taylor started a GoFundMe page to gather money to help her and Harry when she saw how horrible the conditions were inside her mobile home.
That gave Tracy the willpower to start over after she had earlier wanted to give up on everything and consider herself a failure. She began working as a waitress on the weekends and as a freelance writer during the week after renting a tiny home. She would write her book all night long, and nine months later, it was eventually published. Harry was able to attend a better school thanks to her, and Mrs. Taylor—who had previously been unknown to them—became both her mother and Harry’s grandmother.
As Tracy was about to leave her book signing, she thought back on how her life had altered. She pulled out to find a black automobile waiting for her. Anderson Brown, her fiancé, got out of the car and held the door open for her.
It was at Harry’s school that Tracy had first encountered him. She fell in love with him right away; he was a widower with a daughter. He asked her to marry him shortly after, and she accepted.
After Tracy took a seat in the front seat, they drove home to their daughter and son and their new roommate, Mrs. Taylor. On her walk home, she said a little prayer to God, giving thanks for everything.
What lessons may we draw from this tale?
We must exercise patience and seek out the bright side. When things get tough, we start to lose hope, just like Tracy. However, we must never lose sight of the truth that, with enough confidence, we can conquer any challenge. With Mrs. Taylor’s help, Tracy made a fresh start and is today a well-known author.
A book shouldn’t be judged by its cover. Because she was ashamed of her living situation, Tracey never opened her door to others, but they misinterpreted her and called her all kinds of nasty names.
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