MY SON HATES ME, HE STOPPED TALKING TO ME BECAUSE I OPPOSED HIS MARRIAGE TO HIS GIRLFRIEND — SHATTERED WOMAN SHARES

I never imagined that the greatest silence of my life would come from my own son.

I raised him alone after his father died when he was just seven. Everything I did, the long hours at the market, the sleepless nights, the sacrifices, was for him. I taught him to be kind, responsible, and cautious about the choices he made. I believed that when the time came for him to marry, he would understand that my concerns came from love, not control.

I was wrong.

When he introduced his girlfriend to me, I tried to keep an open mind. She was polite, soft-spoken, and clearly loved my son. But as time went on, certain things troubled me. She had dropped out of school with no plans to return. She depended entirely on my son financially, even though he was just starting out himself. I worried about how they would cope with life’s pressures together. I worried about him carrying burdens he was not ready for.

So when he told me he wanted to marry her immediately, I opposed it.

I did not shout. I did not insult her. I simply asked him to slow down, to think, to build himself a little more before taking such a huge step. I told him marriage was not just about love, but about responsibility, patience, and timing.

That conversation changed everything.

He accused me of hating the woman he loved. He said I was trying to control his life and ruin his happiness. I tried to explain myself, but he would not listen. His voice was cold, his eyes distant, as if I had suddenly become his enemy.

The next day, he stopped calling.

Days turned into weeks. Weeks into months. My messages were left on read or ignored completely. On his birthday, I sent a long prayer for him. No reply. When I fell ill and was admitted briefly to the hospital, he did not come. That was the moment my heart truly broke.

People tell me to apologize just to restore peace. But apologize for what? For caring? For fearing that my child might suffer? I replay that conversation in my head every night, wondering if I chose the wrong words, the wrong tone, the wrong moment.

I miss him terribly. I miss his laughter, his stubborn arguments, the way he used to call me “Mama” when he needed comfort. I do not hate his girlfriend. I never did. I only wanted my son to be sure, to be prepared.

Now, I live with the pain of a choice that cost me my child’s voice. And every day, I pray that one day he will remember that even when a mother disagrees, her love never leaves.