I never received a response or a visit. I had lost all hope that anyone would come after two years in the nursing home. Every night, I prayed, “Please, take me home,” but after two years, I tried to convince myself that my hopes were too high.
But one day, I was surprised when my nurse told me that a man in his 40s was looking for me at the counter. Did my son finally drop by?” Before making my way to the front, I quickly grabbed my walker, I said. I thought it was Tyler when I got there, but to my surprise, it was another man I hadn’t seen in a long time.
Mom!” He called out to me and embraced me tightly. “Ron? Ron, is that you?
I inquired. “Mom, I’m me. How are things going?
I apologize for taking so long to visit you. He stated, “I just got back from Europe and went right to your house.”
“My home?” Did you spot Macy and Tyler there? I disclosed, “They put me in this nursing home a few years ago, and I haven’t seen them since.”
Ron asked me to sit down after giving me a sad look.
He began to explain to me what had transpired during the two years I had spent in the nursing home as we sat on the couch together. “Mom, I’m sorry that I have to tell you this. He began to say, “I thought you already knew.” I didn’t find out about Tyler and Macy’s deaths until I went to your house and saw it abandoned last year.
I decided to check the mailbox to see if I could find out where you were, and I found all of your unread letters. What Ron was telling me was unbelievable to me. Hearing about my son’s death still broke my heart, despite my resentment for what he did to me.
I wept throughout the day as I mourned him and my wife’s daughter, Macy. Ron remained by my side the entire time I was weeping. He consoled me and stayed with me until I was ready to speak again without saying a word.
I once took a boy named Ron into my home. He and Tyler were close friends from a young age and could not be separated. Ron lived in poverty and was raised by his grandmother after his parents passed away, in contrast to Tyler, who had everything he could possibly want.
I fed, clothed, and made him live with us until he left for college in Europe. I treated him like my own son. Ron didn’t come back to the United States after landing a high-paying job in Europe, and we eventually lost touch.
Prior to his arrival at the nursing home, I had no expectation that I would see him again. After I finally calmed down, he said, “Mom.” You should not be in this nursing home, in my opinion. Would you kindly permit me to bring you home?
He stated, “I would love to take care of you.”
I couldn’t stop crying again. I was kicked out of my house by my own son, and in front of me was a man who wanted to take me in despite the fact that I wasn’t a relative by blood. Really, would you do that for me?”
