It was painful to hear my only son say that his father and I have given him nothing in this life. Now he thinks we owe him compensation for that – paying his mortgage. But we have nothing to pay, the monthly payment is almost equal to my and my husband’s total income. But if we do not pay, my son said that we will not see our granddaughter.
I gave birth to my son in 1991. At that time my husband and I were both working at the factory, from which in due time we managed to get an apartment, as young professionals. It was believed that our plant was an example of stability and prosperity. But we, like many people at that time, were greatly mistaken.
The plant was ruined, then the owners were changed and we were thrown out into the street like dogs. We had a very hard time, I can’t even explain it to the younger generation, but the older generation remembers perfectly well what was going on in the country at that time. My parents lived in the countryside, there was a large vegetable garden, which gave at least something to survive, but with work was all very, very tight.
My parents wanted me to go back to the village, but the work there was even worse, and we could not go far on the vegetable garden alone. They took any job, my husband worked during his shift work, I also did not sit idle, I worked as a janitor, a shuttle girl, a waitress, or at the market. I was not afraid of any work. I had to leave my son with my parents.
Then I retrained as a seamstress, worked in the shop and sewed to order, my husband also migrated on duty, but very quickly broke his back and could no longer travel. He got a job as a plumber in the housing and utilities department, the salary was tears, but with his health and education at the time there was no other.
I can’t say that we lived worse than others. Few people lived well back then. Well-fed, not naked, not barefoot – already good. Yes, we didn’t dream of vacations at resorts, the repairs were shabby, the equipment wasn’t very good either, but we still lived. We spent our vacations at my parents’ place, where we could help out and go to the river. I tried to make my own clothes, I had a good hand in sewing them.
My son was very shy about how we lived. He didn’t like the fact that his clothes were not bought, but made by me, though I sewed them well, but he didn’t have a label. He complained that he did not have a fancy music player, complained that he could not invite his friends to the house, even on his birthday, because he was ashamed. Although, again, our life was not that bad.
My husband and I tried to wean him off envy, comparison, and explaining that we should live within our means, but it was like banging against a wall. His friend’s parents were successful, as they said at the time, hagglers. They drove things themselves, sold them at the market, and then opened a store and made a lot of money. But I did it three times, almost lost my life and decided that it was not for me. My son thought that my father and I were just losers.
By the time my son graduated, I was working in the atelier and my husband was working as a turner for private individuals. We tried to invest all of our spare money in our son to make up for what he did not have as a child. He studied with tutors, went to summer camps at the sea. It was hard for us, of course, but we tried all the same, for some reason we felt guilty.
My son did not get in on the state budget, and we could not afford to pay for his studies at the university of his choice and the specialty he wanted. In six months we would not have accumulated the amount we had to pay in a semester. We had a big fight at the time.
My husband and I suggested that my son choose something cheaper, but he insisted that it was the only thing, period. We had to say no. Then he yelled at us that we were spoiling his life, that beggars should not be allowed to have children at all, so that they would not suffer. It turned out that my son thought we were beggars.
Then my husband got angry, packed up my son’s things, and kicked him out of the house. We didn’t speak to each other for about three years. My husband didn’t want to hear from him, thinking he had raised a freak. My son took offense and wouldn’t talk to me. I found out the news from his girlfriend, from my mother, who he was in contact with. The whole situation made my heart bleed, I did not know what to do.
Then my son congratulated me on my birthday, then congratulated my father, and began to make steps toward reconciliation. So slowly, step by step we began to communicate again. My heart was relieved, because it is hard not to communicate with my own son. My husband also seemed to be at peace.
But this peace did not last long. Recently my son came and said that he was going to get married. The good news, we rejoiced, and he says he is now going to take out a mortgage. And since we are such bad parents, that we didn’t give him a start in life, we didn’t give him an education, we didn’t give him a place to live, it would be fair if we pay the rent on his apartment.
My husband became indignant, the scolding started again, my son became furious, and before he left he said that his fiancée was already expecting a child. If we don’t agree to his terms, we will never see our granddaughter. Gave him time to think about it and slammed the door.
My husband is raging and says it’s over the line and he’s not going to give in to blackmail. Even if we wanted to, we wouldn’t be able to pay the mortgage anyway. The payment my son voiced is almost our entire monthly budget, my husband and I.
I don’t know what to do now. My husband does not want to hear any more about my son, and my son is ready to talk only after we accept his terms. And I am between two fires. I understand that my son was very rude, but there is some truth in what he said.
