Most parents would give their entire world for the well-being of their children, but sadly, not every child gets to live in a loving home and experience affection, care, and love. Some are neglected and even abused by those who are supposed to provide for them and treat them as jewels.
Four people took to Reddit to tell their life stories and share how beside the injustice and the horrible treatment by their parents they still managed to stand on their feet and turn their lives around. As of their moms and dads, they got what they deserved at the end.
Read their stories below.
Father Needs Son’s Help after Bringing Him up in an Abusive Childhood
In 2019, an individual who identified as Asian turned to Reddit’s “AITA” forum to share a narrative. Recounting his upbringing, the man revealed that his father’s treatment during his childhood was marked by being frequently kicked out of his home.
The family’s financial struggles led them to reside in a subpar townhouse in an unfavorable part of town. Following the common stereotype associated with Asian fathers, the narrator’s dad exhibited extreme strictness regarding academic performance.
If the original poster (OP) received a grade below 70, was tardy to class, or failed to adhere to a curfew, his father’s response was consistent: eviction from the house. Despite his pleas and appeals, he would find himself relegated outdoors with only a sleeping bag, regardless of the weather conditions — rain or snow.
This pattern continued until the age of 16 when a friend extended the courtesy of allowing OP to stay overnight. Each time he was expelled, he would eventually return, apologize, and be permitted to re-enter the home, with him revealing: “[My father] kicked me out at 18 and I didn’t come back home.”
Instead, he opted to stay with a friend and engaged in consistent employment to finance his education. From that day onward, he stopped communicating with his father. Finally, at the age of 29, he found marital bliss with a child on the way.
OP’s mother passed away at the time—a poignant event that brought about a series of unexpected encounters. Amid the atmosphere of mourning and reflection, his father made an appearance at his son’s home, bearing the weight of past grievances. It appeared to be an attempt at reconciliation for the turbulent upbringing that had marked OP’s formative years.
Despite initial perceptions of genuineness, a lingering skepticism arose because OP’s dad had faced his own share of hardships. The closure of his convenience store seven years prior and the deterioration of his pension painted a complex backdrop to the situation.
In a moment that demanded honesty and clarity, the Redditor took the initiative to question his father’s motives for his visit. With a tone of desperation, his dad admitted his intentions—he sought a place to stay. OP, perhaps burdened by a mix of emotions from the past and the present, retreated momentarily into the house.
Upon returning, a sleeping bag was flung unceremoniously onto the lawn—an act loaded with the history of past rejections and a symbol of his dad’s actions. An essential facet of the narrative was inadvertently omitted in the initial retelling. Over time, the father had sought to make amends through sporadic financial offerings sent via mail.
These modest sums, accumulating to around $1500, remained tucked away in the recesses of OP’s closet, which he intended to return at his mother’s funeral reception. Upon the passing of his mother, his wife and friends reacted to his decision.
MY LATE PARTNER’S PARENTS SUDDENLY APPEARED & DEMANDED I GIVE THEM THE KEYS TO HIS HOUSE – I AGREED UNDER ONE CONDITION.
The air in the living room was thick with tension. Jason’s parents, his father, a man whose face I hadn’t seen since Jason was a teenager, and his mother, a woman whose icy glare could curdle milk, sat opposite me, their faces a mask of greed and indignation.
“He did leave you an inheritance,” I said, my voice calm despite the tremor running through me. I reached into my bag and pulled out a sealed envelope. “He wanted you to have it.”
Their eyes widened. They practically lunged for the envelope, their fingers trembling with anticipation. I watched as they tore it open, their faces contorting with a mixture of confusion and disappointment.
The envelope contained a single sheet of paper, a handwritten letter from Jason.
“Dear Mom and Dad,” the letter began, “If you’re reading this, it means I’m no longer with you. I know we haven’t always seen eye to eye, but I want you to know that I forgive you. I also want to express my gratitude to Sarah for the unwavering support she has given me throughout my illness. She was my rock, my confidante, my love.
“I know you might expect me to leave the house to you, but I believe Sarah deserves it. She helped me pay the mortgage for years, she cared for me when I was sick, and she was always there for me, even when you weren’t.
“I hope one day you can understand my decision.
With love, Jason”
The room fell silent. Jason’s father, his face contorted with rage, crumpled the letter and threw it on the floor. “This is an insult! He should have left the house to us! We are his family!”
His mother echoed his sentiments, her voice shrill with indignation. “He was under her spell! She manipulated him! He wouldn’t have done this if he was thinking clearly.”
I remained silent, watching them with a mixture of pity and satisfaction. Their greed was palpable, their love for their son a distant memory, overshadowed by the allure of material possessions.
“I understand your disappointment,” I said calmly, “but Jason’s wishes are clear. The house is mine.”
Jason’s father exploded. “You’re nothing but a gold digger! You only married him for his money!”
I rose to my feet, my anger finally erupting. “I married Jason because I loved him, not for his money. I was there for him when you weren’t. I supported him through thick and thin. I loved him unconditionally, even when his own family abandoned him.”
Jason’s mother scoffed. “Love? You loved his money, that’s all.”
I turned to leave, my head held high. “I will not tolerate these accusations,” I said, my voice firm. “Jason loved me, and I loved him. And I will honor his wishes.”
As I walked away, I felt a sense of peace I hadn’t experienced in years. I had finally stood up for myself, for my love for Jason, and for the life we had built together. The house, a symbol of their greed and his love, would remain a testament to their lost opportunity and to the enduring strength of true love.
I knew the battle wasn’t over. They would likely try to contest the will, to find loopholes, to exploit any weakness they could find. But I was prepared. I had a good lawyer, and I had the truth on my side.
More importantly, I had Jason’s love, a love that transcended material possessions, a love that had proven to be stronger than any family feud, any petty greed. And that, I knew, was a legacy far more valuable than any house.
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