I Wrote My Son Daily from a Nursing Home with No Reply until a Stranger Came to Take Me Home — Story of the Day

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

When I turned 81, I was diagnosed with Osteoporosis, which made it difficult for me to move around without assistance. My condition also made it difficult for my son Tyler and his wife Macy to take care of me, so they decided to move me to a nursing home.

“We can’t be tending to you the entire day, mom,” Tyler told me. “We have work to do. We’re not caregivers.”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

I wondered why he suddenly felt that way towards me, as I always tried to stay out of their way so I wouldn’t disrupt their daily schedules. I would stay in my room and use my walker to assist me whenever I needed to walk to another area of the house.

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

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

“Come on, mom,” he said. “Leave the house to Macy and me! Look at all this space – we can have a gym and separate offices. There’s plenty of room to renovate.”

At this point, I understood that his decision to move me to a nursing home was not because he wanted me to get proper care but to get my house for himself. I was deeply hurt, trying to stop myself from crying upon realizing that somehow, Tyler had grown up to be a selfish man.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

“Where did I go wrong?” I asked myself when I got into my room that night. I thought I had raised a well-mannered man, but it seems I was wrong. I never expected to be betrayed by my son.

Without giving me much of a choice, Tyler and Macy took me to a nursing home nearby, where they said I’d get round-the-clock care from the nurses. “Don’t worry, mom, we’ll visit as much as we can,” Tyler assured me.

Hearing this, I realized that maybe moving to a nursing home wasn’t too bad because they’d come to see me anyway. Little did I know, Tyler was lying and simply trying to get me off his back.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

Every day at the nursing home seemed like an eternity. Although the nurses were friendly and the other patients were nice to talk to, I still longed to be with family and not in a place full of strangers.

Without a phone or tablet, I wrote letters to Tyler every day asking him to visit me or how they were doing. Not once did I get a response nor a visit.

After two years in the nursing home, I lost any 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.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

One day, however, I was surprised to find out from my nurse that a man in his forties was at the counter, looking for me. “Did my son finally come to visit?” I said, getting my walker quickly before making my way to the front.

When I got there, I had a big smile on my face thinking it was Tyler, but to my surprise, it was another man I hadn’t seen in ages. “Mom!” he called out and gave me a tight hug.

“Ron? Is it you, Ron?” I asked him.

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

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

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

Ron looked at me sadly and asked for me to sit down. We sat in front of each other on the couch, and he began to fill me in on what had happened in the past two years I was inside the nursing home.

“Mom, I’m sorry you have to hear this from me. I thought you already knew,” he started to say. “Tyler and Macy died in a house fire last year… I only found out when I went to your house and saw it abandoned. I decided to check the mailbox to see if I could get information on where to find you, and I saw all your unread letters,” he explained.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

I couldn’t believe what Ron was telling me. Although I felt resentment towards my son for what he did to me, hearing about his death still broke my heart. I cried that entire day, mourning him and my daughter-in-law Macy.

Throughout my crying, Ron never left my side. He consoled and stayed with me without saying a word until I was ready to speak again.

Ron was a boy I once took into my home. He and Tyler were childhood friends and were inseparable when they were younger.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

Unlike Tyler, who had everything he could possibly want, Ron lived in poverty and was raised by his grandmother after his parents passed away. I treated him like my own son, fed him, clothed him, and made him live with us until he moved out to study college in Europe.

After getting a high-paying job in Europe, Ron didn’t return to the US, and we eventually lost touch. I never thought I’d see him again until he showed up at the nursing home.

“Mom,” he said after I finally calmed down. “I don’t believe you belong here in this nursing home. Will you please allow me to take you home? I would love to take care of you,” he said.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

I couldn’t help but cry once more. My own son kicked me out of my house, and in front of me was a man who wanted to take me in, even though I wasn’t his blood relative. “Would you really do that for me?”

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

That evening, Ron helped Jude pack her things and took her into his newly-purchased home. There, Jude discovered he had a large family, and they welcomed Jude warmly. She spent her last years in happiness, surrounded by people who truly loved her and cared for her.

What can we learn from this story?

Respect your elders and never forget what they’ve done for you. Tyler didn’t show appreciation to his mom despite everything she had done for him. He didn’t want the responsibility of taking care of her when she got older and chose to send her to a nursing home.

Family doesn’t always mean blood. Ron didn’t see Jude for years but never forgot about the kindness she showed him when he was younger. Ultimately, he decided to repay her kindness by taking her in and caring for her for the rest of her life.

Share this story with your friends. It might brighten their day and inspire them.

If you enjoyed this story, you might like this one about a son who visited his dad at a nursing home, only for the nurse to say that his carbon copy had taken the old man home a day before.

My Husband Created a New Schedule for Me to ‘Become a Better Wife’ — I Taught Him a Good Lesson in Response

I was stunned when my husband, Jake, handed me a schedule to help me “become a better wife.” But instead of blowing up, I played along. Little did Jake know, I was about to teach him a lesson that would make him rethink his newfound approach to marriage.

I’ve always prided myself on being the level-headed one in our marriage. Jake, bless his heart, could get swept up in things pretty easily, whether it was a new hobby, or some random YouTube video that promised to change his life in three easy steps.

A man on an armchair | Source: Pexels

A man on an armchair | Source: Pexels

But we were solid until Jake met Steve. Steve was the type of guy who thought being loudly opinionated made him right, the type that talks right over you when you try to correct him.

He was also a perpetually single guy (who could have guessed?), who graciously dispensed relationship advice to all his married colleagues, Jake included. Jake should’ve known better, but my darling husband was positively smitten with Steve’s confidence.

I didn’t think much of it until Jake started making some noxious comments.

A man looking to the side | Source: Pexels

A man looking to the side | Source: Pexels

“Steve says relationships work best when the wife takes charge of the household,” he’d say. Or “Steve thinks it’s important for women to look good for their husbands, no matter how long they’ve been married.”

I’d roll my eyes and reply with some sarcastic remark, but it was getting under my skin. Jake was changing. He’d arch his eyebrows if I ordered takeout instead of cooking, and sigh when I let the laundry pile up because, God forbid, I had my own full-time job.

And then it happened. One night, he came home with The List.

A serious woman | Source: Pexels

A serious woman | Source: Pexels

He sat me down at the kitchen table, unfolded a piece of paper, and slid it across to me.

“I’ve been thinking,” he started, his voice dripping with a condescending tone I hadn’t heard from him before. “You’re a great wife, Lisa. But there’s room for improvement.”

My eyebrows shot up. “Oh really?”

He nodded, oblivious to the danger zone he was entering. “Yeah. Steve helped me realize that our marriage could be even better if you, you know, stepped up a bit.”

A man | Source: Pexels

A man | Source: Pexels

I stared at the paper in front of me. It was a schedule… and he’d written “Lisa’s Weekly Routine for Becoming a Better Wife” at the top in bold.

This guy had actually sat down and mapped out my entire week based on what Steve — a single guy with zero relationship experience — thought I should do to “improve” myself as a wife.

I was supposed to wake up at 5 a.m. every day to make Jake a gourmet breakfast. Then I’d hit the gym for an hour to “stay in shape.”

A woman glancing down | Source: Pexels

A woman glancing down | Source: Pexels

After that? A delightful lineup of chores: cleaning, laundry, ironing. And that was all before I left for work. I was supposed to cook a meal from scratch every evening and make fancy snacks for Jake and his friends when they came over to hang out at our place.

The whole thing was sexist and insulting on so many levels I didn’t even know where to start. I ended up staring at him, wondering if my husband had lost his mind.

“This will be great for you, and us,” he continued, oblivious.

A happy man | Source: Pexels

A happy man | Source: Pexels

“Steve says it’s important to maintain structure, and I think you could benefit from —”

“I could benefit from what?” I interrupted, my voice dangerously calm. Jake blinked, caught off guard by the interruption, but he recovered quickly.

“Well, you know, from having some guidance and a schedule.”

I wanted to throw that paper in his face and ask him if he’d developed a death wish. Instead, I did something that surprised even me: I smiled.

A woman smiling | Source: Midjourney

A woman smiling | Source: Midjourney

“You’re right, Jake,” I said sweetly. “I’m so lucky that you made me this schedule. I’ll start tomorrow.”

The relief on his face was instant. I almost felt sorry for him as I got up and stuck the list on the fridge. Almost. He had no idea what was coming.

The next day, I couldn’t help but smirk as I studied the ridiculous schedule again. If Jake thought he could hand me a list of “improvements,” then he was about to find out just how much structure our life could really handle.

A woman working at a table | Source: Pexels

A woman working at a table | Source: Pexels

I pulled out my laptop, opened up a fresh document, and titled it, “Jake’s Plan for Becoming the Best Husband Ever.” He wanted a perfect wife? Fine. But there was a cost to perfection.

I began by listing all the things he had suggested for me, starting with the gym membership he was so keen on. It was laughable, really.

“$1,200 for a personal trainer.” I typed, barely containing my giggle.

A woman typing on a laptop | Source: Pexels

A woman typing on a laptop | Source: Pexels

Next came the food. If Jake wanted to eat like a king, that wasn’t happening on our current grocery budget. Organic, non-GMO, free-range everything? That stuff didn’t come cheap.

“$700 per month for groceries,” I wrote. He’d probably need to chip in for a cooking class too. Those were pricey, but hey, perfection wasn’t free.

I leaned back in my chair, laughing to myself as I imagined Jake’s face when he saw this. But I wasn’t done. Oh no, the pièce de résistance was still to come.

A woman laughing | Source: Pexels

A woman laughing | Source: Pexels

See, there was no way I could juggle all these expectations while holding down my job. If Jake wanted me to dedicate myself full-time to his absurd routine, then he’d have to compensate for the loss of my income.

I pulled up a calculator, estimating the value of my salary. Then, I added it to the list, complete with a little note: “$75,000 per year to replace Lisa’s salary since she will now be your full-time personal assistant, maid, and chef.”

My stomach hurt from laughing at this point.

A woman laughing hard | Source: Pexels

A woman laughing hard | Source: Pexels

And just for good measure, I threw in a suggestion about him needing to expand the house. After all, if he was going to have his friends over regularly, they’d need a dedicated space that wouldn’t intrude on my newly organized, impossibly structured life.

“$50,000 to build a separate ‘man cave’ so Jake and his friends don’t disrupt Lisa’s schedule.”

By the time I was done, the list was a masterpiece. A financial and logistical nightmare, sure, but a masterpiece nonetheless. It wasn’t just a counterattack — it was a wake-up call.

A woman smiling at her laptop | Source: Pexels

A woman smiling at her laptop | Source: Pexels

I printed it out, set it neatly on the kitchen counter, and waited for Jake to come home. When he finally walked through the door that evening, he was in a good mood.

“Hey, babe,” he called out, dropping his keys on the counter. He spotted the paper almost immediately. “What’s this?”

I kept my face neutral, fighting the urge to laugh as I watched him pick it up. “Oh, it’s just a little list I put together for you,” I said sweetly, “to help you become the best husband ever.”

A grinning woman | Source: Pexels

A grinning woman | Source: Pexels

Jake chuckled, thinking I was playing along with his little game. But as he scanned the first few lines, the grin started to fade. I could see the wheels turning in his head, the slow realization that this wasn’t the lighthearted joke he thought it was.

“Wait… what is all this?” He squinted at the numbers, his eyes widening as he saw the total costs. “$1,200 for a personal trainer? $700 a month for groceries? What the hell, Lisa?”

I leaned against the kitchen island, crossing my arms.

A kitchen island | Source: Pexels

A kitchen island | Source: Pexels

“Well, you want me to wake up at 5 a.m., hit the gym, make gourmet breakfasts, clean the house, cook dinner, and host your friends. I figured we should budget for all of that, don’t you think?”

His face turned pale as he flipped through the pages. “$75,000 a year? You’re quitting your job?!”

I shrugged. “How else am I supposed to follow your plan? I can’t work and be the perfect wife, right?”

He stared at the paper, dumbfounded.

A dumbfounded man | Source: Pexels

A dumbfounded man | Source: Pexels

The numbers, the absurdity of his own demands, it all hit him at once. His smugness evaporated, replaced by a dawning realization that he had seriously, seriously messed up.

“I… I didn’t mean…” Jake stammered, looking at me with wide eyes. “Lisa, I didn’t mean for it to be like this. I just thought —”

“You thought what? That I could ‘improve’ myself like some project?” My voice was calm, but the hurt behind it was real. “Jake, marriage isn’t about lists or routines. It’s about respect. And if you ever try to ‘fix’ me like this again, you’ll be paying a hell of a lot more than what’s on that paper.”

A serious woman | Source: Pexels

A serious woman | Source: Pexels

Silence hung in the air, thick and uncomfortable. Jake’s face softened, his shoulders slumping as he let out a deep sigh.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t realize how ridiculous it was. Steve made it sound sensible, but now I see it’s… it’s toxic. Oh God, I’ve been such a fool.”

I nodded, watching him carefully. “Yes, you have. Honestly, have you looked at Steve’s life? What makes you think he has the life experience to give you advice about marriage? Or anything else?”

The look on his face as my words hit home was priceless.

A couple having a heated discussion | Source: Midjourney

A couple having a heated discussion | Source: Midjourney

“You’re right. And he could never afford to live like this.” He slapped the list with the back of his hand. “He… he has no idea about the costs involved, or how demeaning this is. Oh, Lisa, I got carried away again, didn’t I?”

“Yes, but we’ll recover. Now, let’s tear that paper up and go back to being equals.”

He smiled weakly, the tension breaking just a little. “Yeah… let’s do that.”

We ripped up the list together, and for the first time in weeks, I felt like we were back on the same team.

Torn paper | Source: Pexels

Torn paper | Source: Pexels

Maybe this was what we needed, a reminder that marriage isn’t about one person being “better” than the other. It’s about being better together.

Here’s another story: Nora thought her marriage to Vincent was solid, but a routine kitchen cabinet check while he was away revealed a devastating secret. A seemingly ordinary jar held a truth so shocking that it led her to file for divorce on the spot.

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.

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