I was so happy when my son, my only one, told me he fell in love. < img src = "https://zycie.news/crrops/a27ed7/620x0/1/0/2025/04/05/eqtpfhq4q4dwvkvkvqldexooy alt = "old lady @pexels" styles = "background-color: rgba (26,25,18,1)" > < p > He introduced it to me with a flash in the eye and a shy smile. & AMP; Bdquo; Mom, she is she & rdquo; & ndash; He said, and I, although something squeezed me inside, I answered with a smile: & AMP; Bdquo; If you love her, I will love her too &
< p > I tried very hard at the beginning. I bought flowers when she came to us. I always asked if he didn't need something. I remembered her favorite cakes and baked without the occasion. I wanted her to feel part of the family. That she would know that she has support in me. That I am not a rival, but a mother.
< p > but with time something began to crumble.< P >First & ndash; Looks. As if M & oacute; bdquo; do not interfere in & rdquo;. Then & ndash; Avoiding contact. Until one day, after a Sunday dinner, during which I gave & I gave the soup & ampquo; for salty & rdquo;, I heard from my son: “mum, maybe a little less criticism ? this does not help & ~ 60 > 62 > < p > fested me. I didn't say anything! I just saw the daughter -in -law to curl when I was to tell my son's childhood story. And then & Hellip; started for good.
< p > They returned from each visit. There was a disgust from each conversation. Until the day, when I accidentally heard the conversation behind the closed door, I felt as if the earth had sneaked under my feet. < p > & ndash; She is toxic & ndash; M & oacute; & ndash; He interferes, controls, evaluates. I can't stand her. Either she or me.< p > & ampquo; toxic & rdquo;. This word stuck in my head like a thorn. All my life I was the one who endured everything. Kt & oacute; after her husband's death carried a house on the shoulders. KT & oacute; Ra did not have herself, but a child. And now & ndash; I am to be a poison in their lives ?
< p > Son did not look into my eyes when he said: < br /> & ndash; Mom, maybe it will be better if we give ourselves space for some time …
< p > space. Emptiness. Silence.
< p > I haven't seen my granddaughter for months. I didn't hear my son's voice. Photos left on the dresser and baked cookies, which nobody will eat.< p > I did everything. And I lost everything.
< p > sometimes I sit in the kitchen and talk to my deceased mother & ndash; In my mind, when I was a little girl. And I ask: can the mother's love really be the fault ? would it really be better if I stopped trying, silent and disappeared from their lives completely ?< p > because if so … maybe I was really toxic.