I Wrote to My Son Every Day, But a Stranger’s Arrival Changed My Life Forever

After my son convinced me to live in a nursing home, I wrote letters to him every day saying how much I missed him. He never replied to any of them until one day, a stranger explained why and came to take me home.

When I turned 81, I found out I had osteoporosis, which made it hard for me to move without help. My condition also made it tough for my son Tyler and his wife Macy to care for me, so they decided to put me in a nursing home.

“We can’t take care of you all day, Mom,” Tyler told me. “We have jobs. We’re not caregivers.”

I wondered why my son suddenly felt this way towards me. I always tried to stay out of his way so I wouldn’t disrupt his daily life. I would stay in my room and use my walker to help me when I needed to move around the house.

“I promise I’ll stay out of your way. Just don’t send me to a nursing home, please. Your father built this house for me, and I want to live here for the rest of my life,” I begged him.

Tyler just shrugged me off, saying that the house my late husband, James, had built was “too big for me.”

“Come on, Mom,” he said. “Let Macy and me have the house! Look at all this space. We could have a gym and separate offices. There’s plenty of room to renovate.”

I began to realize that he wanted to move me to a nursing home, not because he cared about me, but because he wanted my house. I felt deeply hurt, trying not to cry as I understood that Tyler had grown up to be selfish.

“Where did I go wrong?” I asked myself when I got into my room that night. I thought I had raised a good man, but I was wrong. I never expected my son to betray me.

Without giving me much of a choice, Tyler and Macy took me to a nearby nursing home, saying I would get 24-hour care from the nurses. “Don’t worry, Mom, we’ll visit you as much as we can,” Tyler assured me.

Hearing this, I thought maybe moving to a nursing home wouldn’t be too bad because they would come to see me. Little did I know, Tyler was lying and just wanted to get me off his back.

Every day at the nursing home felt like forever. The nurses were nice, and the other patients were friendly, but I still missed my family. I wanted to be with them and not surrounded by strangers.

Without a phone or tablet, I wrote letters to Tyler every day, asking him to visit or how they were doing. Not once did I get a reply or a visit.

After two years in the nursing home, I lost hope of anyone coming. “Please, take me home,” I would pray every night, but after two years, I tried to convince myself not to get my hopes up anymore.

One day, I was surprised when my nurse told me that a man in his forties was at the front desk looking for me. “Did my son finally come to visit?” I asked, quickly grabbing my walker and heading to the front.

When I got there, I smiled, thinking it was Tyler, but to my surprise, it was another man I hadn’t seen in a long time. “Mom!” he called out, giving me a big hug.

“Ron? Is it really you?” I asked.

“It’s me, Mom. How have you been? I’m sorry it took so long to visit you. I just got back from Europe and went straight to your house,” he said.

“My house? Did you see Tyler and Macy? They put me in this nursing home two years ago, and I haven’t seen them since,” I explained.

Ron looked at me sadly and asked me to sit down. We sat on the couch, and he began to tell me what happened in the two years I was in the nursing home.

“Mom, I’m sorry you have to hear this from me. I thought you knew,” he began. “Tyler and Macy died in a house fire last year. I only found out when I went to your house and saw it was abandoned. I checked the mailbox to find you and saw all your unread letters.”

I couldn’t believe what Ron was saying. Even though I was angry at Tyler for what he did, hearing about his death broke my heart. I cried all day, mourning him and Macy.

Ron stayed by my side as I cried, comforting me silently until I was ready to talk again.

Ron was a boy I once took in. He and Tyler were best friends when they were younger.

Unlike Tyler, who had everything, Ron grew up poor and was raised by his grandmother after his parents died. I treated him like my own son, feeding and clothing him until he moved out to study in college in Europe.

After he got a good job in Europe, Ron didn’t come back, and we lost touch. I never thought I’d see him again until he came to the nursing home.

“Mom,” he said when I finally calmed down. “I don’t believe you belong in this nursing home. Can I take you home? I would love to take care of you,” he said.

I couldn’t help but cry again. My own son kicked me out of my house, and here was a man who wanted to take me in, even though we weren’t related by blood. “Would you really do that for me?”

“Of course, Mom. You don’t even have to ask. You raised me to be who I am today. Without you, I’m nothing,” Ron said, hugging me.

That evening, Ron helped me pack my things and took me to his new home. There, I discovered he had a large family, and they welcomed me warmly. I spent my last years happily surrounded by people who truly loved and cared for me.