A few years ago, everything looked different.
I'm sitting in an empty apartment, looking at a photo of my grandchildren on the shelf. Their smiling faces remind me of the moments when I was a part of their lives. When I picked them up from school, cooked them their favorite pancakes with jam, read them bedtime stories. But now those moments seem like distant memories from another life. My daughter, Marta, told me directly that I had no right to see them.
A few years ago, everything looked different. Marta was a young mother who was left alone when her husband left her for another woman. She was devastated, lost, and didn't know how to cope with raising two children and working. I was the one who kept her spirits up, who was there when she cried at night.
„Mom, I can't do it. How am I supposed to raise my children without him?– she would say, and I would always answer:
– „You are not alone, Marta. We will manage. You can always count on me.”
I sold my apartment to help her pay off her debts. I moved in with her so she could work and I took care of the children. Those were difficult years, full of sacrifices, but I knew I was doing it out of love. For her, for my grandchildren.
And now, a few years later, Marta stood before me with a cold expression on her face. She had a new partner, life was starting to improve, but our relationship was starting to deteriorate.
„Mom, we have to talk” – she said one day.
– „What, Marta?”
– „I don't want you to see the kids anymore. This is my life, my family. They need stability, and you keep trying to control me.”
Control? I couldn't believe what I was hearing. How could she say that after everything I'd done for her?
– „Marta, everything I did was for you. How can you take that away from me now?”
– „Mom, it was your decision to help me. But now I decide what's best for my children. I don't want you to interfere in our lives.”
The words were like a blow to the heart. I looked at her, trying to understand what had happened to my daughter, this girl who needed me so much, who said I was her greatest support.
Now I sit here, alone, without my grandchildren, without my family. I try to find answers to the questions that haunt me. Did I really make a mistake in helping her, giving her everything I had? Was I too present in their lives, so much so that she felt overwhelmed? Or maybe I should have never expected gratitude?
Every day I wake up hoping that she will call, to say that she has changed her mind. But the phone is silent, and I feel more and more like a wall is growing between us that I cannot get over.
I look at the photo of my grandchildren and wonder if they will ever understand that everything I did was out of love. Maybe when they grow up, they will ask why Grandma suddenly disappeared from their lives. And then, I hope, Marta will find the courage to tell them the truth.
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