I sent my son and daughter-in-law $700 every week, but they skipped my 75th birthday, ignoring the dinner I had planned and prepared for weeks. When I asked why, my daughter-in-law smirked and said, “Your age means nothing to us.” I didn’t say a word. My hands were trembling, and I decided to cut all contact. “35 minutes later…”
I still remember the exact tone of her voice. Not angry, not apologetic, just careless, like she was telling me the weather forecast or commenting on the color of a napkin. As if 75 years of living, loving, sacrificing, and surviving meant absolutely nothing at all. For a few seconds, I couldn’t speak. My…
