Today’s story is about a man who found a note from his mother in his jacket pocket a few hours before the wedding and couldn’t stop crying when he read it.
Kale was restless as he lay on his bed. He’d been trying to sleep for an hour, but sleep seemed to have other plans. What are you doing, Kale? The man sighed and buried his face in the pillow, cursing himself. You need to sleep! What will Camilla think if she sees you groggy on your wedding day?
But after nearly an hour, Kale still hadn’t fallen asleep. He finally sat up, took out the family album from his side drawer, and began flipping through the photos, remembering the old days.
Kale received a letter from his mother on his wedding day | Photo: Shutterstock
He was just 5 years old when his father David died in a car accident. David ran a small grocery store, and they didn’t make much money back then. The family was already struggling, and his father’s death devastated his mother, Lillian, but she never showed her pain to her son and did her best to raise him.
When he turned 18, she worked several jobs just to send him to college. The store was still there, but it wasn’t enough to provide for his education.
So the elderly lady worked multiple jobs and saved every penny she could, promising herself that she would help her son fulfill his dream of becoming a software engineer. And Kale, like a good son, did not disappoint his mother.
He worked hard and graduated magna cum laude from New York University. He also had several good offers and a handsome package by the end of his senior year of college.
However, by that time, Lilian’s health wasn’t doing well. She didn’t tell her son about it because she didn’t want him to worry. So when Kale returned to his Florida home one day, he was surprised to discover his mother almost lifeless on the bed.
Kale became a successful software engineer | Photo: Unsplash
He immediately called a doctor, who delivered the sad news to him that Lilian was suffering from Alzheimer’s. It was still in its early stages, but her condition was rapidly deteriorating because she didn’t take care of herself.
Kale was advised to transfer her to an old-age home where she would be cared for, but he didn’t want to do that. He tried to take care of his mother in the same way she had taken care of him and applied for a leave of absence to do so. However, nothing changed. Lilian’s condition worsened to the point where she could no longer recognize her own son.
When Kale saw his mother in that state, he became terrified and decided to move her to a nursing home. However, he didn’t want to leave her alone, so he brought her to New York and found a home for her over there.
Three years passed like that, and Lilian’s condition thankfully did not deteriorate, but she still had those moments when she forgot everything, including Kale.
Kale moved his mother to a nursing home | Photo: Unsplash
One day, Kale took his girlfriend, Camilla, to see his mother. They had just recently started dating then and when Lilian met Camilla, her eyes welled up. More surprisingly, she recognized Kale that day. But on their next visit, it was the same story again, where Lilian declared she never had a son.
A few years later, Kale and Camilla were already engaged and they went to visit Lilian to invite her to the wedding. But the poor woman didn’t recognize them both and kept asking how they knew her.
Kale ran out of the nursing home in tears. “What do I do, Camilla? Mom doesn’t even recognize us! And the wedding is just two days away!”
“It’s okay, honey,” Camilla consoled him. “I have an idea if you want your mother to attend our wedding.”
Camilla suggested that they’d hold two weddings. One with all the guests because they’d already sent out the invitations, and the other with intimate family members later at the church close to the nursing home, in the hopes that Lilian would at least recognize them then and give her blessing.
Lilian refused to recognize Kale and Camilla | Photo: Pexels
It was already 4 in the morning and Kale couldn’t stop thinking about his mother. His wedding was just hours away so he closed the photo album, closed his eyes, and managed to force himself to sleep until the sound of the doorbell woke him.
He got up, rubbed his eyes, and slowly walked towards the door. It was seven in the morning and a delivery boy stood outside with a package from his mother’s nursing home. Kale unwrapped the present quickly and discovered a nice suit inside.
Did mom send this to me? Did she finally remember that it is my wedding day? Kale leaped to his feet in delight and dashed over to the mirror to try on the suit. However, as he was putting on the jacket, he noticed a strange bulge in his pocket. He reached into the coat pocket and found a letter inside. “Please open it before your wedding,” it read on the top. Kale recognized his mother’s handwriting and immediately opened the letter and began reading.
Kale discovered a letter in his suit pocket | Photo: Unsplash
“Dear Kale,” it began. “I’m glad you’ve found someone you love, but let me warn you…Moving forward with the idea of marriage is not going to be easy for you. That’s why I’m writing this letter to you before it’s too late.”
“First of all, have a wonderful wedding, son. I came across your wedding invitation today. Thanks for leaving it with the nurse. I really want to see you get married, irrespective of whether I’ll be able to recognize you or not. The nurse here thinks it’s a miracle that I remembered you when I saw the wedding invite. I wish this miracle could last a little longer so that I could remember everything.
“But in any case, please remember that I’m always there with you. Please love your wife and take good care of her. Marriage is a sacred relationship, but it’s not a bed of roses. There’ll be ups and downs, but in a relationship, the heart for understanding each other is the most important.
“Also, keep in mind, son, that you now hold not just a wife and a beloved woman, but the most valuable treasure. So try and help her; she is a fragile woman who may appear strong from the outside, but just like everyone else, even she needs support. And please, don’t quarrel over petty things such as money. Money is not more important than love and relationships.
“Love your wife, try to understand her, and admire her. When she looks at you with love in her eyes, look at her with the same feeling. Every quarrel, like every hurtful word, has the potential to pierce the heart. Don’t let that come in between you two and destroy your family. Do not pursue other women; you have made a decision to pursue her, so don’t look back and be the man of her dreams. I hope you’d be as wonderful a husband as you are a son. With love, Mom.”
Lilian attended Kale’s wedding | Photo: Shutterstock
Kale’s eyes welled up as he finished reading the letter. He quickly got ready and went to the nursing home to meet his mother. Unfortunately, Lilian didn’t recognize him, but he decided to bring her to the wedding as she’d desired.
He went out and bought her a lovely gown and asked the nurse to get her ready. Lilian arrived at the wedding venue in a wheelchair, completely unaware of her surroundings, but tears welled up in her eyes when she heard her son say, “I do!” Perhaps, just for a moment, she did recognize her son and his future wife.
What can we learn from this story?
- Love and respect your parents. Kale loved his mother and never left her alone, despite her condition. All of us should try to be like that.
- Miracles do happen. Lilian had almost forgotten about his son, but she remembered him one day and wrote him a touching letter.
If you enjoyed this story, you might like this one about a store clerk who kicks out a poor little boy who wanted to buy a doll for his dying mom.
My MIL Moved in with Us & Started Stealing My Food – She Denied It, but I Found a Way to Expose Her
When my mother-in-law moved in during her home renovation, I thought the constant criticism of my cooking was bad enough. But when my meals started vanishing while my husband and I were at work, and she denied being the culprit, I knew I had to find a way to expose her.
A few months ago, my mother-in-law, Gwendolyn, decided to renovate her house, starting with her kitchen. She ripped out perfectly good cabinets and tore up the old linoleum floor without thinking twice.
Construction worker demolishing a kitchen for renovation | Source: Midjourney
The issue is that she didn’t bother to budget for any of this chaos. The renovation turned into a money pit quickly. Even worse, the contractor kept finding new problems, adding expenses left and right. Additionally, some of their work required her to be away, as it was dangerous for her health.
Unfortunately, her bank account was drying up faster than a puddle in the desert.
My husband, Sammy, and I sat at our kitchen table, staring at his phone as she explained this little situation. First, she detailed all the new things she was adding to the renovation, like a better sink, and then she revealed what she wanted from us.
Construction worker pointing at something during a renovation | Source: Midjourney
“I just can’t possibly afford a hotel while the work gets done,” Gwendolyn said, using just the perfect amount of desperation in her voice to convince Sammy. “And you know how sensitive my sinuses are. I simply can’t stay in one of those budget motels.”
Just as I expected, my husband gave me that pleading puppy-dog look he always got when his mother needed something. With a deep breath, I nodded. “Of course, Gwendolyn, you can stay with us,” I said, already regretting the words as they left my mouth.
Man in his 30s with a pleading look sitting at a kitchen table where there’s a phone | Source: Midjourney
“Oh, wonderful!” she exclaimed. “I knew I could count on my darling boy. And you too, of course, Paulina.”
After she hung up, I told Sammy I wanted to set some ground rules in writing. I wanted to protect us. Luckily, he agreed. I printed out some boundaries and stipulations for her stay and asked her to sign them.
Gwendolyn wasn’t too pleased about signing anything, but she didn’t have another option. Besides, we figured her stay would be a few weeks, tops. But, oh boy, were we wrong.
Woman holds pen while reading a paper that says “Rules” | Source: Midjourney
The weeks stretched into months, with no end to the renovation in sight. Each update from the contractor brought new delays and complications.
But that wouldn’t be a problem if Gwendolyn’s attitude wasn’t so terrible. From the moment she arrived with her four massive suitcases, it was like living with a critical, nitpicking tornado.
Nothing I did was good enough. Every meal I cooked became an opportunity for her to remind me of my apparent shortcomings, and she always managed to do it when Sammy wasn’t around.
Woman in her 30s standing in a kitchen looking upset while an older woman in the background holds dishes | Source: Midjourney
One evening, I’d spent hours making a pot roast with all the trimmings. The kitchen smelled amazing, and I’d even used my grandmother’s secret recipe. After I turned off the stove, Gwendolyn peered into the pot and wrinkled her nose.
“Oh dear,” she said, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “Are you sure that’s cooked through? Poor Sammy, having to live with someone like you! How can anyone eat THIS?” She shook her head slowly. “In my day, we knew how to properly care for our husbands.”
Woman in her 50s looking down at a pot on the stove in the kitchen with disgust | Source: Midjourney
I gripped the mixing spoon so tight my knuckles turned white. “The meat thermometer says it’s perfect,” I replied through clenched teeth.
“Well, those things aren’t always reliable,” she sniffed, poking at the meat with a fork. “And really, Paulina, did you have to use so much garlic? Sammy won’t like it.”
Actually, this was one of my husband’s favorite dishes, but I let it go. It was easier. But eventually, her nagging about housework pushed me to my breaking point.
Pot roast cooking on a stove with a meat thermometer | Source: Midjourney
It happened during yet another dinner where she’d spent 20 minutes describing how her bridge club friend Martha made the same dish, only “so much more flavorful.”
“If you don’t like my cooking,” I said, setting down my fork with a small clatter, “then you’re more than welcome to buy your own groceries and make your own meals.”
I expected World War III to break out right there in our dining room. Instead, Gwendolyn dabbed her lips with her napkin and smiled. “What a wonderful idea,” she said sweetly. “I’ll start tomorrow.”
Woman in her 50s dabs napkin on mouth during dinner | Source: Midjourney
I frowned but continued eating.
For a few days, everything seemed fine. We had separate shelves in the fridge and separate cabinets for dry goods. But then things started getting weird.
I’d come home from work, exhausted and starving, only to find that the leftovers I was counting on for dinner had vanished into thin air.
The first time it happened, I thought I was losing my mind. The roast chicken I’d meal-prepped the night before was gone. Even the fruit bowl I’d filled that morning was almost empty.
Cut up fruit in a bowl in a fridge | Source: Midjourney
My husband and I were both working long hours at our jobs, so there was only one possible culprit. But every time I tried to bring it up, Gwendolyn denied eating anything.
One evening a few days later, after discovering my leftover piece of lasagna gone, I cornered her in the kitchen. “I’ve noticed that the food I cook keeps disappearing,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “Do you have any explanation for that?”
Again, she had the same excuse. “You must be imagining things. You and Sammy probably just ate it and forgot,” she said, patting my hand condescendingly.
Woman in her 50s patting the hand of a woman in her 30s in the kitchen | Source: Midjourney
I knew it was her and considered why she might be hiding it. Perhaps, her money issues were worse than I thought, and she was too proud to say anything.
Well, she wasn’t too proud to live with us this long while insulting everything I did, so I shook off any sympathy I felt and focused on how I could find proof of her stealing.
That’s when I remembered her allergy to nuts and lactose intolerance. As any good host, I had gotten rid of nuts and bought oat milk for the duration of her stay, but enough was enough.
view from the top, a cinematic, dramatic photograph of a 50-year-old woman’s hands patting a younger woman’s hand, background is a kitchen counter, afternoon light, vivid colors –ar 3:2
I ran a quick errand later, stopping by the grocery store on my way home.
The next morning, I got up early and made a special casserole that I knew smelled too delicious to resist.
Into it went a generous amount of real heavy cream and a healthy sprinkle of crushed cashews. Still, I wrote a big label in red marker: “DANGER! Contains nuts and dairy!” and stuck it right on top of the dish.
I also told her about it. “Don’t eat this,” I warned Gwendolyn before leaving for work. “It will make you sick!”
Woman in her 30s in work clothes in the kitchen pointing at someone like a warning | Source: Midjourney
She barely looked up from her morning paper. “For the last time, I’m not the one touching your food,” she replied with a sniff. “Remember, we agreed to keep things separate.”
I nodded, but I knew she would eat it. When I got home later that day, the scene that greeted me was hilarious, but I had to contain my amusement.
Gwendolyn stood in our kitchen, practically vibrating with rage. Her face had turned an alarming shade of red, and angry hives covered her whole body, which she kept scratching frantically.
Woman in her 50s with red hives on her face from an allergy in the kitchen | Source: Midjourney
Meanwhile, I set my purse down on the counter, taking my time. “My goodness,” I said calmly. “What’s going on here?”
She whirled around, pointing a shaky finger at the half-empty casserole dish. “You!” she shrieked, her voice cracking. “You tried to kill me with that food!”
“But I thought you said you didn’t eat my meals?” I asked, tilting my head slightly. “Also, I warned you. Did you even read the label?”
The look of realization that crossed her face was priceless. Her eyes widened in horror as she fumbled in her purse for her EpiPen. She quickly injected it into her thigh.
Woman in her 50s holding prescription anti-allergen medication in the living room | Source: Midjourney
A second later, Sammy walked in. As he loosened his tie, he looked from his red-faced, panicked mother to me and frowned. “What’s all the commotion?” he asked.
“Your wife,” Gwendolyn gasped out between wheezes, “tried to kill me!”
Shaking my head, I explained everything calmly. “I made a casserole with nuts and dairy. I labeled it clearly and warned her not to eat it because I know about her dietary restrictions. She still did it.”
I pointed to the label, still stuck to the container.
Container of food on top of kitchen counter that says “Danger, contains nuts and dairy” | Source: Midjourney
Before Sammy could respond, Gwendolyn let out a groan and clutched her stomach. She bolted for the bathroom, leaving us standing in the kitchen.
“I’ll sue you for this!” her voice carried through the bathroom door. “You deliberately tried to poison me!”
When she finally emerged, looking pale and disheveled, I was ready. I pulled the document she had signed months earlier from one of the kitchen drawers.
A woman in her 30s is holding a folded paper that reads “Rules” | Source: Midjourney
“I think you’ve forgotten about our first agreement, the one you signed when you came here,” I said, holding it up. “We weren’t charging you rent, but you agreed to split the utilities, and,” I paused for effect, “not to touch our food or groceries unless we were having dinner together.”
I pointed to the clause in question, which she’d initialed herself.
Woman in her 30s pointing at a piece of paper in her hands in the living room | Source: Midjourney
“At first, we shared meals because it was nice to sit together and have the same food,” I continued, raising one eyebrow at her. “But you decided you didn’t like anything I made, so this rule had to be followed.”
“But–” she blubbered, but Sammy chimed in.
“Mom, she’s right. You agreed,” he said, crossing his arms. “Paulina has been more than nice, even though you’ve been difficult. Admit it was your fault for not heeding her warning, and from now on, stop eating our food unless we specifically want to share.”
Man in his 30s with arms crossed looking disappointed in the living room | Source: Midjourney
Gwendolyn’s face turned an even brighter shade of red… this time from shame. She opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again, but no words came out.
Then, she stomped to the spare room and stayed there until morning. Surprisingly, her house renovations magically sped up after that incident, and she was out of our house in only a week.
During that time, though, she didn’t complain at all. She barely talked to us. She made her own meals, and we even shared some dinners, where I assured her that nuts and dairy weren’t involved.
Woman in her 50s in the kitchen cutting ingredients with concentration | Source: Midjourney
One time, Gwendolyn actually complimented my chicken with caramelized onions. “This is… good,” she’d said grudgingly, grabbing another serving.
I smiled, a little proud of myself. Maybe, you were never too old to learn a good lesson.
The day she left, she surprised me with a hug and a quiet, “Thank you, Paulina. For everything.”
I smiled and told her she could visit any time. We would always be there to help. Just for the record, I wasn’t proud of what had to be done to get to that point. But you have to stand up for yourself, especially with relatives who can’t appreciate what you do for them.
Woman in her 30s on the front porch waving with a smile | Source: Midjourney
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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