Alfred* (31) grew up with a loving dad who was the glue of their family and a mum who prioritised work over building a connection. He shares how, after his dad died in 2021, his mum took over all his assets and how her unchecked greed has torn their relationship apart.
As told to Adeyinka
My siblings and I didn’t have the best relationship with our mum growing up. It wasn’t that she didn’t love us—she did, in her own way—but she wasn’t the warm, nurturing type you’d expect a mother to be. While other mums spent time with their kids or made an effort to connect, ours was all about work and her business. She was strict, and every interaction with her felt like walking on eggshells.
Our dad, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. He was warm, approachable, and always present. Despite working full-time and contributing significantly to the household finances, he made time for us. He helped with homework, attended school events, and listened to us. He wasn’t perfect, but in the world of parenting, he was the one we gravitated towards. Naturally, my siblings and I adored him.
Looking back, I don’t think my mum even realised how distant she was. She had tunnel vision when it came to providing for the family. Maybe in her mind, she was doing the right thing by focusing on financial stability while my dad handled the emotional side of parenting. She worked a high-paying government job and ran a successful side business. To her, this was love: making sure we never lacked. But for us kids, it felt like we were growing up without a real mother.
Things changed slightly in our teenage years; she tried to connect with us. She asked about school and showed more interest in our lives. I remember she showed up unannounced during one of my open-day events in secondary school. I was shocked, but it made me happy. For a moment, it felt like she was trying to turn things around. But just as quickly as it started, it ended. By the time we got to university, she’d reverted to her old ways—distant and consumed by work. My siblings and I had learned to keep our interactions with her minimal. It was easier to love her from afar than deal with the frustration of trying to connect with someone who didn’t seem interested.
After we graduated and started NYSC, things took an annoying turn. Out of nowhere, our mum started demanding a portion of our allowances. At first, I thought she was joking, but she wasn’t. She expected us to give her money from the little we were earning, even though she had a well-paying job and didn’t need it. It felt unfair, but we complied because she was our mum.
Her demands didn’t stop there. When we started earning proper salaries, she still expected a cut. It wasn’t like she needed the money because she was already comfortable. It felt like greed, plain and simple. We were frustrated about the whole thing but kept quiet to avoid unnecessary conflict. Our dad wasn’t helping matters, too, because he didn’t seem to have a problem with her demand. He said she shouldn’t even have to ask before we gave her. Then, in 2021, he passed away, and everything went from bad to worse.
After my dad’s death, my mum took control of everything he left behind. She had all the documents to his properties, access to his bank accounts, and the keys to his three cars. I still remember the week of his demise; she immediately swung into action and started commandeering everything, including his phones and the key to his room. At first, I thought she was just grieving and holding onto everything temporarily. But as time passed, it became clear she had no intention of letting go.
The entire thing was weird because it wasn’t like she was struggling. My mum’s job paid her well, and her business brought in extra income. But she hoarded everything my dad owned as if it was hers alone. She sold one of his properties without telling us, and when we found out, she brushed it off like it was nothing. When we asked why she was holding onto everything, she casually said she’d share it with us eventually. But her actions said otherwise.
The cars were another issue. My dad had three, and none of us could access them. When I asked about the keys, she said something along the lines of “Don’t rely on your father’s properties, make a name for yourself.”
My siblings and I tried to reason with her, asking her to at least share the resources with us since we were his children, too. But every conversation was futile. When we couldn’t get through to her, one of her closest friends, who had also tried to mediate, advised us to ask family members for help. But even that was a waste of time; she’d smile politely during these interventions and nod as if she were taking their advice seriously. But as soon as they left, it was back to business as usual.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone so stubborn. It’s like she decided she was entitled to everything my dad left behind, and nothing anyone said could convince her otherwise.
To make matters worse, my siblings and I don’t entirely agree on how to handle the situation. While we’re all upset, one sibling believes pushing too hard will make her more defensive. Another has suggested cutting her off entirely, but that feels extreme. We’re stuck in this limbo, unsure of how to move forward.
It’s been two years since my dad passed, and my relationship with my mum has never been worse. Honestly, I don’t even think I can call it a relationship anymore. My siblings and I are united in our anger towards her, and I hate that this is what we’ve been reduced to. It’s hard to feel anything but resentment when the person who’s supposed to care for you is the one causing so much pain. And the worst part? She doesn’t seem to care. She still calls us occasionally, but it’s always about money. Never a “How are you doing?” or “Are you okay?” It’s always, “When are you sending me something?”
Sometimes, I wonder if my mum’s behaviour is rooted in trauma. I know she had a rough childhood because her parents struggled financially, but even if that’s the case, it doesn’t excuse how she’s treated us. I want to believe she loves us and knows she’s wrong. But until she’s willing to have an honest conversation, there’s nothing I can do.
For now, I’m focused on building my own life and supporting my siblings as much as possible. We’ve leaned on each other a lot these past two years, and I’m grateful for that. It’s a small silver lining in an otherwise messy situation. As for my mum, I don’t know if forgiveness is on the table. Maybe one day, I’ll feel differently. But right now, the hurt is too fresh, and the scars are too deep.
All I know is that I miss my dad. He was the glue that held us together; it feels like everything is falling apart without him. I wish he were here to see how things have turned out. I think he’d be heartbroken. And honestly, so am I.
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