We have a big family; I have a sister who is 20 years older than me, you could say, my mentor. Our parents are no longer young, my mother is 63 years old, and my father is 68 years old. I also have a family, a son, and a wife.
My wife often leaves on business trips, so my son and I stay home, but my mother started visiting.
“Have you heard that Irene is getting married?” my mother asked worryingly, “Did you see her fiancé?” He does not impress me. He is too arrogant. He might turn out to be an abuser.
“Well, mom, our Irene was supposed to get married a long time ago because she is already 43 years old. She should not wait anymore!”
“Yes, I understand, but I will be alone. She doesn’t want to stay in our house because they are thinking of renting a home, which would be a waste of money.”
Oh, now it is clear. Irene was “mother’s daughter,” so she was furious that Vincent took her away from her. But there was no other way because my mother would not stop nagging them.
My mother controlled everything when I had a wedding. Fortunately, my wife was not like that; she wasn’t mother material. After we got married, we had kids, and life went on … My mom had a lot of disagreements with us about our family life because she didn’t like almost everything we did. The arguments with my mother made me move to another city and limited communication with my mother. When my father got sick and moved back, we sold the house there and bought one closer to our parents.
She did not interfere with our family life because her new goal was Irene. She took care of her life; her father never cared about us; he was an incredible old man as long as no one bothered him. But now my mother worried about Irene’s wedding.
“Son, my leg is killing me; I have high blood pressure. My hypertension worsened as soon as Irina and Vincent began to live together. I have no idea what to do, I might die, and no one cares.”
“Imagine, Irene doesn’t even call,” my mother continued, “Did I raise her that way, son? Something is not quite right here; it is probably that her husband does not want to come and does not allow Irene.”
I was tired of my mother’s stories because I knew Vincent and Irene often came to visit their parents. They brought medicine and helped when needed. But that was not enough for her.
Irene told me, “Brother, I don’t have enough power for all this. Does Vincent insult me? Does he drink? Does it bring money home? Is it difficult for me? Do I have time to take care of the household? Oh, she stresses me out.
Yes, I understood her better than anyone, but my mother did not give up easily. She complained that her hearing was lost, her eyesight deteriorated, and she suffered heart problems.
“I think I did something wrong that I’m alone now,” said my mother tearfully.
Irene, her mother, felt sorry for her; she and her husband decided to continue to live with her; they were worried.
“What are you doing?” I asked my sister, “But this will be the end of your family life with Vincent. Your mother will not give you peace but will tyrannize him.”
My sister didn’t listen to me. Because it was financially difficult for them, her fiancé suggested they should not be paying for housing at the moment. While living in Irene’s parents’ house was much better than living in the apartment, Vincent could not survive there for more than two months.
“It’s absurd; we aren’t allowed to close our bedroom door,” he complained. “How are supposed to become parents if her mother comes into our bedroom in the morning, afternoon, and evening?”
Irene’s mother always cleaned up in Vincent’s office. She cleaned it so much that she threw away his projects because they were not in the right place. She turned off the TV because it was too loud while Vincent watched his football game. That’s why it’s so strange that Vincent suffered that long. Why should he be stressed because Irina wants to be with her mother?
The point is that right after Vincent left, my mother started feeling better. Her hypertension normalized. Her legs no longer hurt; she even decided to enroll in a chess club to improve her memory.
However, when I looked at my sister, I was shocked. Irene became thin; wrinkles covered her face. She stopped hanging out with my friends. She was always at home, not having any personal life, but her mother was happy.
“I told you he was not a good man for my daughter,” my mother kept telling everyone who asked about Vincent, “He left my daughter, but I will never leave her.”
People would listen to her and praise her. What a remarkable mother! The best example for all mothers!