My Son Said He Bought Me a Cottage in the Countryside – But When He Took Me There, I Went Pale

My Son Told Me He Bought Me a Cottage in the Countryside – But When He Took Me There, I Went Pale

When we arrived at the cottage my son Michael had given me as a surprise, I discovered it was all a ruse. I eventually learned the true reason for his actions, but I’m still not able to forgive him. How would you respond?

Hi there! I’m Richard, and I’m sixty-eight years old. I never imagined myself approaching random people for guidance, but here I am. I need another set of eyes on this.

To provide some context, I have spent the majority of my adult life as a single father. When our son Michael (who is 35 years old) was just ten years old, my wife Emma died of cancer.

Although it was a challenging period for us both, we were able to overcome it together.

It’s been the two of us versus the world ever since. I tried my hardest to give him every chance I could, trying to be both a mother and a father to him.

Michael was a decent child growing up. Although he did occasionally act rebelliously, he was generally a good man who worked hard and showed good judgment.

After graduating from high school on a partial scholarship, he went on to pursue a career in finance.

I’ve always been quite proud of him, having watched him develop into what I considered to be a prosperous adult.

Even when he moved out, we kept in touch by speaking on the phone frequently and getting together for dinner at least once a week.

That’s why the events that transpired more than a year ago were so shocking.

Full of anticipation, Michael arrived to my place on a Tuesday night. He said, “Dad, I have some incredible news! I purchased a cabin for you in the country.”

A cabin? “What are you talking about, Michael?”

“Dad, that works perfectly. It’s calm, quiet, and exactly what you require. You’ll be thrilled with it.”

It surprised me. Go to a cabin far away from here? That appeared to be excessive. “You didn’t have to do that, Michael. Here, I’m completely content.”

However, he persisted! “No, Dad—you’re worthy of it. Your current residence is too large for you to live in alone. A change is warranted. You’re going to love this, I promise.”

To be honest, I was dubious. Our family had been in the house I was residing in for more than thirty years. Emma and I had established our lives together there, and Michael had grown up there.

Still, my kid appeared so happy, so certain that this was the correct thing to do. And I had total faith in him. We’d always been sincere with one another, after all.

Consequently, I consented to relocate and sell my house against my better judgment.

Over the next two days, Michael took care of most of the details as I packed and got ready to depart. He gave me his word that everything would be alright.

I ignored the residual doubts I had because he was being so helpful.

The day finally arrived for us to take a car ride to my new house. Michael was chattering on about all the perks this new property offered as soon as we got in the car.

But I began to feel nervous as we drove more and farther away from the city. The view got progressively more bleak. It was neither hilly nor wooded.

The city’s busy streets and our friendly neighbor had vanished, leaving behind only desolate, vacant fields and an abandoned farm.

Michael knew that I had loved and thought of purchasing the surrounding cottages when his mother was still living. They were comfortable, natural settings. It was the other way around.

I said to Michael, “Are you sure we’re heading in the correct direction? I don’t think this looks like cottage country.”

I noticed he wouldn’t quite meet my eyes, even though he assured me we were headed in the correct direction.

We drove for approximately a another hour before coming to a long, winding driveway. Standing at its conclusion was a big, uninteresting structure.

I was struck with sadness when I saw the sign that said “Sunset Haven.”

This was not a cabin. A nursing facility was there.

In an attempt to control my feelings, I went to Michael. “What’s this all about? What is happening?”

He responded, “Dad,” but he was unable to meet my gaze. “I apologize. Although I did mention that it was a cottage, this is better for you. Here, you’ll receive excellent care.”

“Attended to? I don’t require caregiving! I can manage living alone just well. You would lie to me, but why?”

“Dad, please.” At last, Michael looked up at me, his eyes beseeching. “Recently, you seem to be forgetting things. Your living alone worries me. Excellent facilities are available here, and assistance is always available if needed.”

“Is there anything you forgot? Everyone occasionally forgets things.” I cried out, my eyes welling with enraged tears. Michael, this isn’t right. Take me home immediately.”

With a shake of his head, Michael revealed the day’s biggest surprise. “Dad, I can’t do it. I’ve got… The house has already been sold.”

It seemed as though the earth had lifted off of me. I had all the time in the world, even though I knew I had committed to selling. I wanted to introduce myself, choose a good family, and, of course, provide them detailed instructions on how to take care of the ancient Elm tree in the yard.

How on earth could he have sold it without my permission or knowledge?

Michael remained evasive when I wanted answers. He said something about acting in my best interests and having power of attorney.

That shut me down, and the following few hours seemed to fly by.

I found myself checked into Sunset Haven somehow, and they showed me to a little room with a window facing a parking lot and a thin bed.

The air smelled of old people and disinfectant, and the walls were a sickening hue of beige.

The smell of my wife’s cinnamon coffee cake persisted in our previous house, and I never altered her interior design preferences. The only improvements I’ve gotten are new appliances when I needed them and an Alexa from Michael.

But suddenly I was living in this depressing, clinical setting.

Nor was there anything I could do about it. I was shocked and furious for the next three days, and I kept thinking about what Michael had said. Was I really gone for good, forgetting everything?

Was this the appropriate course of action? Had I hurt Michael? Had I been given a dementia diagnosis or something similar?

Though I couldn’t envision any of that, something about Michael’s guilty and worried farewell glance made me wonder.

In an effort to make me feel at home, the Sunset Haven staff was friendly and made an effort to include me in events. However, I couldn’t get rid of the uneasy sensation I had.

Furthermore, why had Michael brought me here if I was truly losing my memory? I was a hands-on dad. I was always at his school events. I witnessed everything firsthand.

I had never felt such betrayal as I did now. I understand that kids don’t owe parents anything, yet I felt I had raised him more successfully.

I overheard a talk that made everything much worse during an afternoon when I continued to wallow in my emotions.

As I pretended to read a magazine in the common area, I heard two nurses close having a quiet conversation.

Mr. Johnson is a poor man, one of them added. “Did you hear about his son?”

“No, what happened?”

It seems that he incurred significant debts from gaming. He moved his father into this house after selling his father’s.”

It was as though I had taken a punch to the gut. debts from gambling? Was it the true motivation behind this whole thing? Had my kid really sold me out to make up for his own transgressions?

I was even more distraught.

For personal gain, the boy I had reared and believed to be my closest confidant had abandoned me.

I reflected on all the times I had come to his aid, all the efforts I had made to provide him with a happy life.

Fortunately, providence sent an old buddy to step in. Longtime friend Jack, a lawyer, was surprised to see me at Sunset Haven when he arrived to see his sister.

He was furious when I told him what had happened. He offered to investigate whether Michael’s actions were lawful.

It came out that there had been various legal shortcuts taken during the hurried sale of my residence. I was able to challenge the transaction with Jack’s assistance.

I eventually regained my house and left Sunset Haven after a protracted legal battle that required Michael to reimburse the buyers for the money he had stolen and to pay all associated costs.

This is where I need guidance now.

My son has been attempting to make amends. The last time he was at my place, I hardly recognized him. He appeared to have gone weeks without eating or sleeping well.

He sobbed when I allowed him in.

He explained to me how he had turned to gambling as a way to deal with work-related stress, how things had gotten out of hand, and how he had persuaded himself that moving into a house and selling my house would be the best course of action for everyone.

He vowed to put things right, saying he had been receiving therapy for his addiction.

“I was in the wrong, Dad,” he cried. “Very incorrect. Will you ever be able to pardon me?”

I have a part of me that wants to let the past go. My son and I have one other thing in this world: each other. However, there’s still a part of me that feels hurt and angry.

After what he did, how can I ever trust him again? In order to hide his own transgressions, he stole my house, lied to me, and played me.

How can I be sure that even if he sincerely apologizes today, he won’t do anything similar in the future?

In my position, how would you respond?

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