I have been to her all my life. < img src = "https://zycie.news/crrops/d284cf/620x0/1/0/2025/04/05/njkwtsktqnlclwlwlwubandjkohalz1sgoq0lfjflwg.jpg" alt = "old lady @pexels" styles = "background-color: rgba (94,97,88,1)" > < p > I raised her myself & ndash; Her father left before she could say the first & ampquo; mama & rdquo;. We were two against the world. When she was sick, I didn't sleep at night. When she had problems at school & ndash; I stood a wall. I gave her my life, heart and youth. And I always believed that this bond would survive everything.

< p > until the day that was seemingly a simple Saturday.

< p > a neighbor rang.

< p > & ndash; I saw your C & Amp; Oacute; RKA today & ndash; She said. & ndash; She did a party for a small one. Balloons, cake, kids ran for a yard. I thought you were there too & hellip;

< P >I froze. My granddaughter, my little Kruszynka had a birthday. And I & Hellip; I didn't even know.

< p > I took the phone, my hands were trembling. I called C & Amp; Oacute; Rki. Picked up after a few signals, in an indifferent voice like a cold wind.

< p > & ndash; I did not want to you m & oacute; ndash; She said quietly. & ndash; Just & Hellip; This is not a place for you. This is our holiday. And you & Hellip; you don't fit.

< p > & ndash; I do not fit ? & ndash; I whispered. & ndash; I am your mother. I am the grandmother of this girl.

< p > & ndash; Exactly. And I don't want you to be in the center as always. Your comments, TW & Amp; Oacute; J tons, these faces & Hellip; I don't want this energy with my child. I want peace.

< p > It was not n & oacute; Ż. It was an ax into the heart. Heavy, brutal and final.

< P > I folded the phone and sat in silence. I looked at P & oacute; where a gift stood, which I bought a month earlier a month earlier & ndash; Handmade dollhouse. With love. With heart. With hope.

< p > I always thought that to love meant to be. Be present, even when it hurts, even when we get & orne; But now I know that you can be erased & ndash; Even from the birthday of your own granddaughter.

< p > I don't know what I did so badly. Maybe I loved too much. Maybe I was too often m & oacute; what I think. Maybe I'm just from another world, which & oacute; ry does not match the & their holidays & rdquo;.

< p > But in the evening, when I put out the light, I still hear her voice from years ago, when she wandered to me with a teddy bear:

< p > & ndash; Mommy, promise you will always be with me.

< p > I promised. And I kept my word. She forgot.

Natasha Kumar

By Natasha Kumar

Natasha Kumar has been a reporter on the news desk since 2018. Before that she wrote about young adolescence and family dynamics for Styles and was the legal affairs correspondent for the Metro desk. Before joining The Times Hub, Natasha Kumar worked as a staff writer at the Village Voice and a freelancer for Newsday, The Wall Street Journal, GQ and Mirabella. To get in touch, contact me through my natasha@thetimeshub.in 1-800-268-7116