“I Told Her That If She Had a Conscience, She Could Wash the Dishes at Least Once”: My Son Said I’m Trying to Ruin His Family

I was just 23 when my husband, Tom, decided he had enough of family life. Our son, Michael, was only three years old. Tom left because he couldn’t handle the constant responsibilities – he had to earn money and spend it on us. He didn’t like that at all. Why spend on the family when he could spend on himself and his girlfriend?

The first few years were tough. I had to juggle multiple jobs to make ends meet while raising Michael. I worked as a waitress during the day and took up cleaning jobs at night. My parents helped as much as they could, but they were getting old and had their own health issues to deal with.

Michael grew up seeing me struggle, but I always tried to shield him from the worst of it. I wanted him to have a normal childhood, even if it meant I had to sacrifice my own happiness. When he turned 18, he met Sarah, a girl from his high school. They fell in love quickly and got married right after graduation.

Sarah moved in with us because they couldn’t afford a place of their own. I was happy for them but also worried. Sarah seemed nice enough, but she never lifted a finger around the house. She would leave dirty dishes in the sink for days, expecting me to clean up after her.

One evening, after a particularly exhausting day at work, I came home to find the kitchen in a mess. Dirty dishes were piled high in the sink, and the trash was overflowing. I couldn’t take it anymore. I confronted Sarah and told her that if she had any conscience, she could at least wash the dishes once in a while.

Michael overheard our conversation and stormed into the kitchen. “Mom, why are you always trying to ruin my life?” he yelled. “Sarah is my wife, and you need to respect her!”

I was taken aback. “Michael, I’m not trying to ruin your life. I’m just asking for a little help around the house,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady.

But Michael wouldn’t listen. “You’re always complaining and making Sarah feel unwelcome. You’re trying to destroy my family!” he shouted before storming out of the house with Sarah.

That night, I cried myself to sleep. I couldn’t understand how things had gotten so bad. I had always put Michael first, and now he was accusing me of trying to ruin his life.

Days turned into weeks, and Michael and Sarah didn’t come back. They found a small apartment and moved out without even saying goodbye. The house felt empty without them, but I tried to carry on with my life.

Months later, I heard through mutual friends that Michael and Sarah were expecting their first child. I wanted to reach out and congratulate them, but I was too afraid of being rejected again.

As time went by, I realized that I might never have a close relationship with my son again. The pain of his accusations still lingered, but I had to accept that he had his own life now.

I continued working hard, saving up for my retirement. The house remained quiet, a constant reminder of the family I once had but lost.