It all happened one Sunday at noon.
My son, in front of the whole family, stared at me and said shamelessly:
“Useless old man.”
I didn’t answer. I kept chewing slowly so they wouldn’t notice how my chest was tightening. But that insult stuck with me. I finished eating in silence, got up from the table, and went to my room.
That afternoon I spent thinking. I thought about my years of work, how I built that house brick by brick, how I raised my children always putting their plate before my own.
And I understood something painful: they no longer respected me.
So the next day I made a decision.
The new locks
I got up early, went to the hardware store, and bought new locks for the whole house. When I got back, while everyone was asleep, I changed them door by door.
When my son saw me kneeling in the doorway, he went white.
“What are you doing, Dad?”
“Fixing what was broken,” I replied without raising my voice.
When I finished, I gathered the family in the living room and said,
“From today on, anyone who wants to enter this house has to ask me. There aren’t enough keys for everyone anymore.”
No one responded. The silence spoke volumes.
Getting the house in order
That same week, I went to see a lawyer.
I took out the envelope where I always kept the deed to the house: it was still in my name. I asked the lawyer to put it on record that no one could sell, mortgage, or touch that property without my authorization.
I went back home and gathered everyone.
“The house is in my name,” I said. “And now it’s in writing that no one can move a single document without my permission. As long as you respect me, this will remain your home. If not… the door is right there.”
Some lowered their heads. Others frowned. But no one said a word.
The Plan to Send Me to a Nursing Home
A few days later, my youngest son sat across from me.
He spoke slowly, like someone carrying a poisoned message.
“Dad… we were talking. We think it would be best if you went somewhere where you’d be taken care of. A nursing home.”
I stared at him, unblinking.
“A nursing home?”
He said it was “for my own good.” But I already understood: they didn’t want to take care of me, they wanted the house.
I didn’t argue. I just nodded.
Sometimes you figure things out without having to shout.
The Attempt to Break the Lock
To make things clear, I put a strong lock on the gate.
One morning I found my youngest son trying to break it with a tool.
“What are you doing?” I asked calmly.
“Nothing, Dad… just checking.”
I didn’t let him continue.
