I Wrote My Son Daily from a Nursing Home with No Reply until a Stranger Came to Take Me Home

After my son suggested I move to a nursing facility, I sent him letters every day, sharing how much I missed him. He didn’t reply until one day, a stranger came to explain and took me home. At 81, I was diagnosed with osteoporosis, making it tough for me to walk on my own. My condition also made it hard for my son Tyler and his wife Macy to look after me, so they decided to place me in a nursing home.

Tyler said, “We can’t look after you all day, mom. We’ve got jobs. We are not caregivers.” I was confused about his change of heart since I always tried to stay out of their way and not disrupt their daily life. I would remain in my room and use my walker to move around the house. “I will keep out of your way, I promise. Please don’t send me to a nursing home. Your father built this house for us, and I want to stay here until I die,” I pleaded. Tyler ignored my request, saying the house my late husband James built was “too big for me.” “Come on, Mom,” he insisted. “Give the house to Macy and me! Think about the extra room; we could have a gym and separate offices. There’s so much room for changes.”

Then I realized his aim to send me to a nursing home was not about my care, but to claim my house. I was deeply hurt and tried hard not to cry as I understood that Tyler had become greedy. “Where did I go wrong?” I wondered that night in my room. I thought I had raised a considerate man, but I was wrong. I never expected my own son to betray me. Tyler and Macy took me to a nearby nursing facility, promising I’d get 24-hour care from the staff. Tyler comforted me, “Don’t worry, mom; we’ll visit often.” I thought moving to the nursing home might not be too bad since they planned to visit. I didn’t know Tyler was just saying that to appease me.

Life in the nursing home felt endless. Although the nurses were nice and it was enjoyable to talk with other residents, I wanted to be with my family, not in a place full of unknown people. I wrote letters to Tyler daily, asking him to visit or just to check in. I got no replies or visits. After two years, I lost all hope of seeing my family again.

“Please, bring me home,” I prayed every night, but after two years, I started telling myself not to hope anymore. One day, I was surprised to hear from my nurse that a man in his forties was at the front desk looking for me. “Is it Tyler?” I thought, as I hurried to the entrance with my walker. When I got there, I smiled thinking it was Tyler, but it was another man I hadn’t seen for months. “Mom!” he exclaimed, embracing me tightly.

“Ron? Is that you, Ron?” I asked him. “It’s me, Mom. How have you been? I’m sorry it took so long for me to visit. I just came from Europe and went directly to your house,” he said. “My house? Did you see Tyler and Macy there? They put me here years ago, and I haven’t seen them since,” I told him. Ron looked at me with sadness and asked me to sit.

We sat on a couch facing each other, and he began to explain what had happened during my two years in the nursing home. “Mom, I’m sorry you have to hear this from me. I thought you knew,” he started. Tyler and Macy had died in a house fire last year. I only found out when I went to your house and saw it was empty. I checked the mailbox to try to find out where you were, and I discovered all your unread letters,” he continued. Hearing about my son’s death was heartbreaking, even though he had wronged me. I mourned him and Macy all day. Ron stayed by my side, comforting me and staying quiet until I was ready to speak again. Ron was a boy I had taken in. He and Tyler were best friends growing up.

Unlike Tyler, who had everything, Ron grew up poor and was raised by his grandmother after his parents died. I cared for him as my own, feeding and clothing him until he went to college in Europe. Ron landed a well-paying job in Europe and we lost contact. I never thought I’d see him again until he appeared at the nursing home. “Mom,” he said softly. “I don’t think you should be in this care home. Can I take you home? I would love to care for you,” he offered. I cried again. My own son had driven me from my home, and here was a man who was not even my kin, offering me a home. “Would you really do that for me?” “Of course, mother. You don’t need to ask. You made me who I am. Ron hugged me and whispered, “Without you, I am nothing.”

That night, Ron helped me pack my things and welcomed me into his new home. There, I found he had a big family, who warmly greeted me. I spent my last years happily, surrounded by people who truly cared for me.