My Son Was My Friend and My Rock for Life, but After His Wedding, We Became Strangers.

My son has always been my confidant and my rock, yet after his wedding we became strangers.
I never imagined my child could change so dramatically under someone elses influence. My only son, Alexandre, was a golden boycourteous, kind, always ready to help. He grew up that way and stayed that way into adulthood. Before he married, we were inseparable: we met often, talked for hours about everything and nothing, shared our sorrows and joys, and supported each other. Of course, I kept my distance where appropriateI didnt meddle in his life beyond what was necessary. Everything collapsed the moment she entered his worldMarine.
For their wedding, Marine and Alexandre received a oneroom apartment in the heart of Lyon from his parents as a gift. It became their little nest, freshly renovated. I was never invited over, but Alexandre showed me pictures on his phone: bright walls, brandnew furniture, a cozy atmosphere. After my husband died, I was left with no savings, so I decided to pass almost all my jewelrygold chains, rings, earrings collected over the yearsto the young couple. I told Marine, If you want to melt them down, I dont mind. I wanted to help them, to support the start of their life together.
But Marine showed her true colors immediately. A sharp, decisive woman, she dug through the wedding envelopes stuffed with cash, her curiosity about the amount unsettling me. On one hand, such a trait could make a good wife; on the other, it signaled the need for caution. Nowadays many women view their husband as a purse, spend his money as if it were theirs, then divorce, take half, and move on to a new target. I dont wish that fate for Alexandre, yet the worry gnaws at me.
Six months after the wedding, Marine announced she didnt want children yet. Not now, she said, in this tiny flat its impossible. She lifted her arms and added, What can we do? I dont want to take a loan, and we dont know when well afford a bigger place. Alexandre isnt a big boss yet. She spoke aloud, but I sensed the calculation in her tone. I still lived in the house my late husband had begun to buildunfinished, with gaps in the walls. In winter the cold was biting, and my pension barely covered heating. Then Marine blurted, Sell your house, buy a studio, give us the rest for a new apartment, and then well think about children.
Do you see what that means? She wants this frail, elderly woman to give up her home while they take the best of it. Perhaps theyd even push me into a retirement home. At first I thought about agreeingif only they helped me financially once a month. Now? Never! With someone like Marine, you must stay on guard; you never know what shell do next.
After that talk Alexandre visited me several times, subtly suggesting his idea wasnt so bad: Why do you need a big house? It would be easier in a flat with lower expenses. I held my ground: The city is growing; in five to ten years property values will rise. My land is no longer on the outskirtsselling now would be foolish. One day I proposed a swap: they could move into my house while I lived in their studio. After all, its the same, right? Marine refused. She didnt like the idea of a house needing repairs and investment while she would comfortably live in their gifted apartment. She craved comfort, even when my proposal was more advantageous. Thats just how she is; theres nothing to change.
Then I fell seriously ill, bonedeep. Confined to bed with fever, cough, excruciating headaches, I called Alexandre, begging him to bring supplies and medicine. I knew the young couple were busy, and I lacked the strength to even boil water. I never imagined he would drop everything to help. He arrived only the next day, handed me a makeshift Fervex powder, left a loose box of possibly expired aspirin on the table, shrugged, and left. Fortunately, a friend came to my rescue, bringing soup, proper medication, everything I needed. Had she not been there, who knows what would have become of me?
My son was my light and support throughout my life. I trusted him blindlyhe was more than a son, a friend, part of me. The marriage erased all of that. We are now strangers, and I cannot change it. He is my only child, my pride, yet his heart now belongs elsewhere. Marine positioned herself between us like a wall, leaving me on the far sidealone, abandoned, useless. Reason says the bond is broken; its time for him to choose between his mother and his wife, and the choice is as clear as day. Still, my heart clings to the hope that he will remember who I was to him and return. Each day, however, that hope melts like snow under an unfamiliar sun.