I had three rules for funding my kids’ weddings: finish your education, keep the budget reasonable, and plan to have children. My daughter, Clarissa, followed them and I happily paid for her beautiful wedding. My son, Rob, chose to be child-free, so I refused to fund his.
He warned me I’d regret valuing money over people, but I stood firm and barely spoke to him before his wedding.
The night before the ceremony, Clarissa called in tears. Rob had used his entire savings—not for his wedding—but to pay off her mortgage arrears and set up a fund for her kids after her husband lost his job. He chose a simple registry office wedding and pizza dinner so her family wouldn’t lose their home. He made her promise not to tell me because he didn’t want my help out of obligation.
I felt ashamed. The son I’d judged as selfish had shown more selflessness than I had.
The next morning, I went to his small London ceremony. I apologized and hugged him. He told me family is about showing up when it’s hard, not just carrying on a name. He was right.
Afterward, surrounded by laughter and my grandchildren, I realized legacy isn’t bloodlines or money—it’s kindness and presence. I tore up my old rules and offered Rob and his wife a honeymoon, not out of guilt, but love.
I almost lost my son over principles that didn’t matter. Now I know: true wealth is having children who still want you in their lives.