Monthly, I handed my son’s wife 2,000 pesos from my retirement check for groceries, yet when I gently mentioned the meat was too greasy…
Each month, I faithfully provided my daughter-in-law with 2,000 pesos from my retirement funds for household shopping and meal preparation.
My thoughts were simple: “At my age, all I desire is a wholesome meal and the joy of dining alongside my children and grandchildren.”
However, during one evening meal, I observed that the meat served was excessively greasy. I offered what I considered a gentle suggestion:
“Perhaps next time, dear, you could select cuts with less fat—they’re more pleasant to digest.”
I believed this was merely a helpful comment, yet my daughter-in-law’s expression darkened immediately. She pivoted away without acknowledgment.
The following dawn, she departed for the marketplace and returned carrying spoiled fish that reeked terribly.
The putrid odor permeated our entire kitchen.
She presented the fish soup at our table, and upon seeing it, I found myself unable to lift even a spoonful. Fury consumed me entirely.
“This is absolutely intolerable,” I thought inwardly. “I’m nurturing serpents that will eventually strike me. Rather than showing appreciation, she’s acting like a petulant child.”
Consequently, I resolved to withhold any further financial support, curious to observe how she would manage.
Merely three days elapsed before my son summoned me to our living room.
He sat with grave composure, my daughter-in-law positioned beside him with folded arms and a triumphant expression, as though victory was already secured.
My son fixed his gaze upon me and declared with commanding authority:
“Moving forward, Mother, you’re no longer required to provide my wife with money. However, you also mustn’t interfere in kitchen matters or influence what’s purchased or prepared. Simply consume your meals and allow us to handle everything else. Additionally, don’t cling to your pension—honestly, what purpose does it serve you? It’s better entrusted to my wife’s management, preventing any wasteful spending.”
My heart seemed to cease beating entirely.
I couldn’t fathom that the child I’d nurtured through countless sacrifices would address me so callously.
Meanwhile, my daughter-in-law beamed with smug satisfaction, resembling someone celebrating a victory.
Pain pierced my chest as tears cascaded down my cheeks. Instantly, I realized I’d become their burden, and those modest pesos were merely pretexts for revealing their authentic nature.
I remained speechless, gazing into nothingness. The son I’d once cradled now regarded me as a stranger. Yet they remained unaware of my earlier preparations.
Three months prior, sensing my declining health, I’d transferred all my accumulated savings—exceeding 300,000 pesos concealed in an antique armoire—to my youngest daughter residing in Guanajuato. I’d explained:
“Darling, should anything befall me, you’ll handle my funeral arrangements. Don’t allow your brother and his wife to squabble over my finances.”
I’d also executed a legal will through a notary, specifying that she would inherit the house, being the sole family member who visits regularly, brings medications, and has never made me feel abandoned.
I dried my tears, lifted my chin, and with a voice that trembled yet remained resolute, I informed them:
“Cease worrying about my pension. From this moment, I’ll manage it independently. Furthermore, let me clarify: I have nothing additional to offer you.”
My daughter-in-law’s eyes enlarged dramatically, while my son stood speechless.
“What are you implying, Mother?” he managed to stutter. “Your pension barely covers…”
I smiled serenely, experiencing newfound liberation within my heart:
“Indeed, it’s insufficient. However, what I did possess has been entrusted to someone who truly appreciates its value. And that someone is not you.”
Silence enveloped the room. My daughter-in-law’s complexion flushed crimson with rage, while my son could barely articulate a response. I rose with my walking stick and ascended to my room, leaving them frozen in disbelief.
That very evening, I gathered my belongings and contacted my daughter. She arrived at daybreak to transport me to her rural home.
The day I departed that residence, once alive with my grandchildren’s laughter, I shed no additional tears.
I comprehended that blood relations sometimes become clouded by avarice. Nevertheless, I also recognized that I still possessed somewhere to belong, someone who genuinely cherished me.
I smiled warmly and clasped my daughter’s hand firmly throughout our journey to Guanajuato.
Behind me remained that dwelling where my son and daughter-in-law would continue existing within the frigid walls constructed by their own selfishness.
And I, finally, had advanced toward the tranquility of my remaining years.
