The terrible things I did to my three fatherless children, especially my gay son, made them walk out of my life. I went from riches to rags and lived in regret for 8 years until I met someone who made me realize my mistakes. I took a big step to win my children’s hearts again, but fate had other plans.
I often recall that Sunday evening last month when my dear friend, Dorothy, came to see me. “Oh, Victoria. I feel so terrible seeing you lonely and poor like this. Has Brad called you yet? It’s been eight years.” she said.
Her questions appear stale to me whenever she asks about my children who left me to starve.
But what would I tell her? That Brad cut me off entirely and asked me not to call or knock on his door for anything? That my daughter Grace told me how embarrassed she was to say I’m her mother? That a once well-off mother of three is now rummaging through public trash cans for leftovers and selling handmade bags on the streets to buy bread?
It hurts me whenever I recall the terrible things I did to my children, things a loving mother would never do to her kids. They abandoned me, and I deserve it. But one day, someone made me realize my mistakes, and I decided to reach out to my kids before it was too late…
I’m Victoria Parker. I’m 68 and was supposed to be aging peacefully in downtown Pittsburgh. This old house is the only thing I have of my late husband, Richard Parker, who died 27 years ago.
Richard held my hands on his deathbed after a heart attack and made me promise that I would raise our three kids, Brad, 6, Grace, 5, and Jonas, 3, into three lovely humans.
“How could you decide my life for me? Are you deaf, mom? Didn’t you hear me? GET OUT and never come here !…Go get a life! Why are you always telling us what to do?” said my children.
“I promise, Richie. I will do anything for them. I promise,” I said as my beloved husband breathed his last, leaving me with a life filled with hopes and three young kids.
Life as a single mother was not easy for me. Fellow mothers who had been in my shoes would understand the painful things I endured to raise my children alone. I almost lost hope when I was fired from my job as a waitress, but happiness sprung back when a kind real estate tycoon hired me as her secretary, and I made enough money to raise my children.
I wanted them to be happy and have everything they wanted. But then I started to decide things for them and wanted them to have what I thought was best after quitting my job several years later. It began when Brad shared his passion for dancing with me after he graduated.
How did I not see his talent and love for choreography? Was I such a lousy mother to have deprived him of his dream? Or was I selfish? That’s what he thought.
“But mom, I don’t want to be a lawyer! It’s not what I dream of. I want to go to New York, Las Vegas, California, and then Hollywood. I want to become a dancer,” Brad argued when it was time for him to choose his career.
“No, darling. That’s not a good idea. Do you want to be a street dancer or make good money practicing law? Your dad would never allow you to dance if he were with us,” I said emotionally, cornering my son. He argued, but I insisted, and my word was stronger than his desire, so off he went to take up law.
My next big mission was to convince my daughter Grace to marry a family friend’s son. But what happened next made me realize that it takes more than just promises and determination to be a good mother. I had to step into the shoes of a villain and devise a breakup plan to get rid of Matthew, her boyfriend, who I thought was wrong for my daughter.
“Honey, I think Matthew likes you but not your big nose,” I once joked while having dinner with Grace and my youngest son, Jonas. It was a candid joke, but my daughter took it to her heart.
“So, do you mean he won’t marry a girl with a big nose?” she retorted.
“Well, why don’t you fix your nose before you plan to marry a good-for-nothing roadside Romeo like Matthew?” I said. But this time, I meant it because I didn’t like her partner. Would any mother let her girl marry a low-salaried man like Matthew? I wouldn’t because I didn’t want my girl to live a poor life with him. So I secretly took his number from her phone and called him under the pretext of planning their wedding.
“…And I don’t want you to tell Grace about our meeting, okay? It’s a surprise,” I told him on the phone call. I asked him to meet me that evening at a café. Of course, I never let it slip, or Grace would have moved heaven and earth to choose him over me.
I met Matthew that day. Needless to say, he was smart and handsome, but that wasn’t enough to live a life of dreams. I wanted my daughter to live like a queen, and I decided to ruin their relationship before things got out of hand.
In a bid to get rid of the guy, I asked Jonas to text him from my daughter’s phone while she was away. So while Matthew was talking to me about his plans with Grace, he got a text. I was delighted to see his smile fade away and melt into tears.
“What is it, Matthew? Are you alright?” I pretended and took the phone from him to see if everything went as planned. I was so happy to see the text from Grace’s phone number, which Jonas sent and deleted on her phone right after.
“Matthew. Mom is right. I don’t think we can be happy without money and a big house. I don’t want to live with you in your rented apartment. So I’m going to get engaged to the man mom wants me to marry. Please do not stop me if you truly love me. If possible, please get away from here because you will remind me of our relationship. Don’t call or text me. Goodbye.”
It was all I wanted. I saw Matthew storm away into the light of the day, and that evening, I saw Grace running to her bedroom in tears. “What is it, mom? Go away! I’m ruined. I was betrayed. He switched off his phone after leaving me a text saying, ‘Goodbye, selfish woman!’…What did I do? I don’t believe Matthew would do this to me!”
I walked into Grace’s room and comforted her. “I told you, honey. Guys like Matthew don’t deserve to be in love. They are dramatists and betrayers.”
My loving words and advice soon convinced Grace to agree to marry our family friend’s son, Jake. And five months after their wedding, I took all the money from my joint account with Grace. She married a wealthy man, so I thought her savings were mine. After all, I was her mother.
She had saved $6,000 for rhinoplasty, and I took it. Don’t I have the right to my child’s money as a mother? But it did not go too well with Grace when she found out about it.
“MOM? Mom, did you take my money from our joint account? It was for my rhinoplasty. Why did you take it without my permission?” she asked me. It felt like a thousand arrows of fire targeting me. I thought I had the right, but when she questioned me, I was speechless.
Now, Jonas overheard everything, and he thought I was an evil mother. My heart raced with fear, and I hoped he wouldn’t go against me at this point. But Jonas lashed out at me, and we kept arguing until he spilled the truth about how I was the one behind Matthew breaking up with Grace.
My daughter was furious. She argued with me and burst into tears. “How could you decide my life for me? How could you be such a bad mother?” she cried.
A bad mother? Is this what I get for trying to give my children the best?
She walked out on me that day eight years ago. She was pregnant with Jake’s child, and it was the last time I saw her. She never contacted me again, and the last time I went to her house, she asked me never to see her again. It hurt me, but I agreed.
Being a mother is not an easy job, and I was crushed it went this far. At that point, my sister-in-law visited me with her two grandchildren. I was renovating my house, so I gave them the spare keys to Brad’s apartment in the heart of the town. He was away on a trip to meet a client regarding a case and told me he would return two weeks later.
I thought my sister-in-law Casey and her grandkids could stay there to cut down on hotel bills. But to my horror, it backfired when Brad returned earlier than he said and found his apartment in a mess.
“Mom, can you please come over to my house and explain? I want you here immediately!” he said.
I knew where this was heading because he didn’t sound very nice. He was already mad at me for snatching his dream of becoming a dancer. And now this. So I took a taxi to his house and saw him outside his apartment. He stared at me, furious.
“Oh, my God!” I shrieked after seeing the mess in his apartment.
“I’m sorry, Victoria. My grandchildren were just playing with the pillows. I’ll clear it up,” Casey apologized.
Feathers and cotton lay scattered on the floor. Brad’s law books were all over the place, and his indoor pots were broken. I knew how naughty children were at this age, but Brad did not take it lightly.
“Enough! I want you out, right now!” he shouted, and Casey gathered her grandchildren and walked away. She was scared. I stood there to calm him down, and that’s when I heard something even more heartbreaking from him.
“Are you deaf, mom? Didn’t you hear me? GET OUT and never come back here!” he yelled. I froze in tears and took slow steps to the ground floor instead of the elevator.
I was crushed. I thought he would be happy to be around family and kids. I thought he would appreciate what I did. No, I was wrong. I went home with a broken heart that bled with shattered hopes, only to witness another heartbreak there.
“Jonas? What the hell are you doing?” I shouted at my youngest son, who was 22 then. “Why are you cross-dressing?”
How could I have not known? To give my children the best, I failed to recognize their desires. But what Jonas did added insult to my injuries.
I argued with him regarding his gender orientation, but he was too rigid to listen. I knew grown children deserved their privacy and to decide what’s best for them, but was I being too nosy in his private matters regarding his gender choices? I swear I did not know he was doing this behind my back.
“I want you to behave like a grown man, not a woman!” I shouted at him. I thought my stern voice and anger would scare him, but little did I know that my youngest sweetheart, Jonas, was now a grown adult capable of making his life choices. I realized it when his hurtful words snapped me to my senses. It was clear that I hurt him, and it was wicked of me to have said that to him.
“Go get a life, mom! Why are you always telling us what to do? We know how to make our lives better! I’m sure Brad and Grace were right! Our lives would be way better without you involved! I regret always supporting you. Suit yourself. I’m moving in with my boyfriend. Goodbye!” he said and slammed the door in my face.
It’s been eight long years since my children shunned me from their lives, leaving me alone in this empty house. They haven’t called me and never visited me. I lived in grave silence and poverty for a long time. I could not find work because nobody was interested in hiring a woman in her 60s. I spent all my savings on bills and groceries. And in no time, I went from riches to rags.
While I was battling with my emotions, my neighbor came to me with a life-changing piece of news. It was an enlightenment that changed my attitude towards my kids and made me beg for their apology.
“Hello, Mrs. Simpson! I want you to come to my grandson’s baby shower,” my neighbor Xavier Alan said when he came to me two weeks ago.
“Oh, that’s lovely. So, is this your daughter’s son? Or son’s son?” I asked him, and that’s when he told me the unthinkable.
“It’s my son’s son. He married a man, and they adopted this baby,” Xavier said.
“What?” I shrieked. “But why did you let that happen? Were you okay as a father to let your son choose that path?”
“He is my son, and I respect his desires. Every parent should learn to honor their kids’ wishes instead of confining them to their rules and policies,” Xavier said.
At that moment, I realized my mistake. After greeting Xavier bye, I grabbed my old phone and called my children one by one. I was scared that they would shout at me, but it’s been eight years since I heard from them, so I mustered the courage and called Brad first.
But no, I couldn’t do it. I cut the call and sent them each a message instead. I wrote:
“This is mom. I hope you still remember me! So I thought about inviting you for my 70th birthday next week. I don’t have money to throw a party. But I’m sure I now have a big heart to apologize to you and ask you to see your poor old mother. Sorry is a small word, but I’m so sorry for being such a bad mother. Please forgive me. I’m looking forward to hearing from you. Love, mom.”
I stared at my phone for the next few minutes, awaiting their response. Minutes became hours, but nothing turned up from my kids. I was crushed and feared I would die without my children by my side.
Just then, there was a notification on my phone, and what I saw filled my eyes with tears I hadn’t shed all my life.
“Hey, mom! Did it take eight years for you to get back to me? I forgive you. Let’s forget our past, and I want to introduce you to my kids, Brandon and Shanon. I promise to be there next week. Love, Brad.”
I couldn’t believe my eyes. Then another notification popped on my screen. It was from Grace.
“Mom?! How are you? I’m still mad at you, but your words moved me. I’m sorry for not visiting you. I thought you were doing well, but I didn’t think you’d struggle so much after we left you. Will be there next week, alright?!”
Tears endlessly flowed down my cheeks. I waited eagerly for Jonas’ response, but he didn’t call or text me. “Has he not forgiven me yet?” I cried.
My 70th birthday the following week was the best day of my life. Brad and Grace visited me. We talked and laughed a lot. I made sure not to bring back our past and only talked about the good things that happened to them after they left me. Then I heard the door creak open and saw someone at the doorstep.
“Jonas?!” I screamed in joy. He was a grown adult who was happy with his gender choices. Moreover, I was glad to see him smiling.
That evening, I looked at my late husband’s photo and deeply sighed. “I kept my promise, Richie. Our children have grown into three beautiful human beings who know how to forgive,” I mumbled in tears.
My children offered me to move in with them, but I refused. I wanted them to live their lives independently without me or my traditional views. But they promised to see me often. They offered to send me money every month for my expenses. I refused but didn’t argue when they insisted, and I agreed.