Losing my marriage broke me. What happened two days after his death broke all I trusted. My mother-in-law altered Losing my marriage broke me. What happened two days after his death broke all I trusted. Mother-in-law changed the locks and evicted me and my kids. She felt she had won, but she had made her biggest mistake.
I married Jason two years ago. I knew Eleanor, his mother, disapproved. She openly disliked me. She always looked at me like I was something disgusting on her shoe.
Jason said, “She’ll come around, Mira,” gripping my hand under the dining table while his mother only spoke to him.
Eleanor never returned. Not to me or my daughter Ava (5) and son Noah (7) from a prior marriage.
I’ll never forget hearing her confide to a friend in her kitchen over Sunday dinner.
“They aren’t even his,” she continued. “She took him into a premade family. Standard gold-digger behavior.”
In the hallway, my dinner plates shook as I froze.
I broke down that night. “Mother thinks I used you for money. She doesn’t consider Ava and Noah family.”
Jason’s face stiffened. “I’ll manage.”
Pulling me close. “You and the kids are my family. Story over.”
Jason kept his promise and purchased us a lovely home in a good community far from Eleanor. Ava and Noah blossomed under his affection. Noah never sought to replace their father, who left when he was diapered. “He simply arrived for them.” Always.
At bedtime, Ava said, “Mr. Bumblebee sleeps on the left.”
Jason nodded, straight-faced. Guarding the left. Very crucial.”
Later, on the couch, he remarked, “I talked to my mom. Told her to accept my family or not see me.”
He was hugged tightly. “Thank you.”
“I didn’t have to,” he said. It was my choice.
Eleanor remained distant. She accepted awkward birthday gifts and holidays with us. Barely.
Then everything collapsed.
The phone rang while I cooked.
“Is this Mrs. Mira Dawson?” he asked.
“Yes?”
Calling from Mercy General. Your husband had a terrible vehicle accident. Please arrive now.”
I barely recall the drive. Just the doctor’s face when I arrived.
I’m sorry. We did our best.”
Jason left. Just like that.
Eleanor sat across from me and the kids at the funeral, her expression hard. Later, she approached.
“This is your fault,” she remarked coldly. “He would be alive if he hadn’t been rushing home to you and your children.”
I froze. “What?”
You captured him.”
“We were his family!” I snapped. “He loved us.”
“He was duped.”
She left, leaving me surprised and suffering again.
Noah later asked, “Was it our fault Dad d.i.ed?”
Cupped his face. No, sweetheart. Never. That was Grandma crying and shouting nasty things.”
Eleanor continued.
Two days later, we got ice cream. Everything we had was placed on the curb in trash bags when we returned. Wind blew Ava’s beloved pink blanket.
“Why is my blankie outside?” she cried.
Came to the front door quickly. Key stopped working.
I banged the door. Eleanor opened it gently. I assumed you’d understand. I own this house. Leave with your brats.”
This is our home! I wept.
Was my son’s. You have no claim.”
She grinned. “Sue me. Wait—you can’t afford it.”
She closed the door on us.
We slept in the car that night. It was like camping, I told the kids. Ava cried to sleep. Noah stayed up watching parking lot lights.
“Dad wouldn’t let this happen,” he muttered.
“And I won’t either,” I responded.
The next morning, I called Jason’s lawyer, David.
She did what? he exploded.
I held back tears as I explained.
Had Jason a will?
“Yes. He left something—please tell me.”
“He did. He updated it six months ago.”
I ran to his office. David gave me documents. Jason left me the house, his savings, everything.
“He left his mother $200,000,” David said. “One condition: if she tried to evict you or interfere with the estate, she forfeits it.”
“Where does it go?”
“To you and kids.”
Hope returned after days.
We had court the next day. I informed the kids, “We’re getting our house back today.”
“Really?” Ava whispered.
“Really.”
The judge heard both viewpoints. Eleanor rants about “family rights.”
The judge frowned. You have no legal right to replace or remove the locks. You must go by 5 p.m. today.”
Eleanor paled.
Heard outside the courthouse, “This isn’t over.”
David smiled. Actually, yes. She hasn’t realized she lost $200,000 yet.”
We got new keys at sundown. Home security had been restored by a locksmith. The identical black trash bags held Eleanor’s stuff on the curb.
Eleanor shrieked in her SUV as the youngsters exited.
“What does this mean?”
I separated her from the kids. You broke law. I now live here.”
“You can’t!”
But I can. Jason guaranteed it.”
She grabbed her phone. “Call the police!”
“Go ahead.”
The cops listened to both sides before turning to her.
‘Ma’am, you committed illegal eviction and trespassing.
It was my son’s house!
“Which he left to his wife,” they remarked.
Eleanor was surprised when they escorted her to the squad car.
“You turned him against me!” she yelled. “You and those non-his kids!”
Leaning in. “No, Eleanor. You did. Everything—including his money—is gone.”
Her mouth opened. “What?”
Is in the will. Interfere and we get it. Guess where it is?”
As the police car drove away, my anguish eased.
We slept in our beds again that night. I put Mr. Bumblebee on the left side of the bed and snuggled Ava in.
“Is Grandma Eleanor going to jail?”
I dunno, honey. She can’t hurt us anymore.”
I found our family photo in Jason’s office later.
“You knew she’d try something,” I whispered.
I heard him in my heart: Yes. You were protected by me.
David subsequently told me Eleanor lost her inheritance, reputation, and a brief jail sentence.
I didn’t cheer her downfall. But knowing Jason’s last act was love comforted me. He foresaw our future and ensured our safety.
Our justice finally arrived.
