I was already married when my parents passed away. My brother Jack was getting married, and part of my parents’ inheritance, which we divided equally, went to his wedding. Maria’s parents gave the newlyweds their apartment, and they moved into the house they had just completed.
Jack, as I recall, always dreamed of living on “the land,” as he said, and he even planted several fruit trees in the yard of the high-rise where we lived. He “infected” his wife with his dream, and the couple, having sold the apartment and added the money left from the inheritance, bought a plot with an old dilapidated house. They somehow managed to fix it up so that they could live there during the construction. Of course, they had to take a loan from the bank.
Work began on the site, the foundation had already been laid, work had been done to bring water into the house and sewage. The construction required a new portion of funds, but the firm where my brother worked went bankrupt, Maria was about to give birth, and the moment came when they had to admit that they simply could not survive on their own.
They turned to his wife’s parents with a request to shelter them. They could not refuse, but the unwise children had to listen to what their parents thought of them. And life together was not easy for everyone, because the parents had to support two adults and a newborn granddaughter.
My brother did not even want to hear about the sale of the land, he believed that he would find a good job, and in time Maria would start working, and they would finish the house after all.
At another meeting with my brother, I learned the details of their life in my wife’s parents’ house. They were hostages to the situation, so they had to do what their parents told them to do. All the young couple’s money was given to their parents, who had to do with it as they saw fit. It was easier with her father, but Mary’s mother was the kind of woman who could not accept any loss, either financial or emotional. She did not miss an opportunity to jab her daughter with the fact that she and her husband had not listened to her parents’ advice and decided their lives their own way. And yet she said… And as punishment for this disobedience, a food scenario was established: meals that were prepared for everyone went to the young, but something tasty, delicatessen passed by.
I asked Jack how the grandparents felt about their granddaughter.
– Oh, it’s good that at least the child gets their love, care, and the best nutrition.
– Of course, it’s frustrating and humiliating to live like this, to walk around half-starved and salivate over the smells of food.
-Why don’t you cook for yourself?
– We do not have that opportunity. We don’t have the money in our hands anyway, so we can’t buy anything like that.
When I heard the whole story, I felt sorry for my brother’s family, and after talking with my wife, we offered to let them stay with us. The young family agreed. A month and a half later Jack found a good job, they saved some money and moved into their own place.
During recent events, communication with my wife’s parents was minimal. They met only on major holidays, and their relationship was strained. And that was predictable! After all, I don’t understand how anyone could feel sorry for their child’s food. It’s not like they skipped out on their money. A person at a certain point was in a difficult situation, and the closest people, instead of helping, strike such a blow.
Yes, if necessary, a brother and his wife will never refuse to help their parents, but still… one must always remain human. And no house or money scuffle should hurt the family!
