The elderly neighbor knelt down and pleaded with the merciless son not to place her in a nursing home, but he disregarded her pleas 
When I heard sobbing coming from the wall, my heart collapsed. It was my neighbor, a 67-year-old retiree. Through a slightly open door, I saw her kneeling in the yard with trembling hands, begging her son not to take her to a nursing home. But, displaying his stubbornness, he merely waved her aside and shoved an old bag into her hands.
It was impossible for me to not feel sorry for her. I couldn’t witness an old, helpless person being kicked out of her family’s life. I approached her, hugged her, and whispered:
— Come with me. There are others around you.
I decided to stop this family from getting rid of their mother so easily because she gave me such a dejected look. Later on, share with them the experience of losing a loved one.
She wiped away her tears with the corner of her handkerchief and remarked, “I’ve worked my entire life for him.” “My son,” she murmured, swallowing the lump in her throat. I gave him everything and reared him alone. And ever since he got married, he appears to have forgotten about me.
I didn’t say anything; I just squeezed her hand.
— The daughter of the in-law The neighbor added in a trembling voice, “That one tells him that I’m a burden, that I’m old and ill, that I belong in a nursing home.” I’m anxious just to give my grandchildren a hug, Lord—what if she doesn’t like it? I am no longer a person in this house, but a burden.
She paused her speech and gazed at the pattern on the tablecloth before muttering in a barely audible voice:
— And my son… Even my son did not defend me. He chased me away like a dog.
At that moment, I made the decision to teach him to honor his mother. I won’t allow him to just get rid of the person who gave you life.
After the neighbor had calmed down a little, I gave her a tight embrace and said:
— Don’t worry, I’ll help. A son like that ought to understand that he has no right to treat you that way.
The next day, I called him personally.
I said, “Hello,” in a cold voice. — I live with your mom now. What do you know, too? Here, she feels at ease and satisfied.
“What?” he shouted into the phone. Why not in a facility for assisted living?
— Because she isn’t an asset. She is an individual. I’ll treat her with dignity and provide her a place to live. Attempt to adapt to that. I’ll ask journalists to tell everyone about how you threw your own mother out on the street.
When he ceased speaking, I continued:
I’ll talk to the neighbors and your boss as well. In my view, someone with such a reputation is unlikely to interact with people in the future.
His strained breathing was audible to me.
— You’re not allowed to “My family is with me,” he muttered.
— I do— I said politely. As long as she wants to, she will be with me. If you want to win her back, you’ll need to go on your knees and apologize.
I hung up and turned to face the neighbor, who had heard everything. For the first time in a long time, a ray of hope came into her eyes.
In a whisper, she said, “Thank you.”
I promised that everything would work out. — He will learn from us the importance of loving and respecting a mother.
