I sent my son and daughter-in-law $700 every week, but they skipped my 75th birthday, ignoring the dinner I had planned and prepared for weeks.

I sent my son and daughter-in-law $700 every single Friday. For three years. And yet… they skipped my 75th birthday. Ignored the dinner I had spent weeks planning.

When I asked why, my daughter-in-law smirked: “Your age means nothing to us.”

I didn’t reply. My hands shook. But something had to change.

For years, every Friday at 9 a.m., I sat at my kitchen table with my chipped “Best Mom Ever” mug, my pill organizer, and my phone. $700 went from my late husband’s pension to my son’s account. At first, there were thank-you texts, heart emojis, photos of my grandchildren. Then gratitude faded. Requests grew. Car tires. Electric bills. Winter coats. I skipped appointments, rode the bus, lied to friends about being “tired,” not broke. Holidays became silent meals alone, smelling of cinnamon and disappointment.