**Diary Entry 12th March**
My daughter-in-law asked me to visit less often. I stepped back but then, one day, she was the one who called, asking for help.
After my sons wedding, I made an effort to visit them regularly. I never arrived empty-handedId always bake something special, bring sweets, or whip up a pie. My daughter-in-law would praise my cooking, happily trying the first slice. I truly believed wed built a warm, genuine bond. It brought me joy to feel useful, to be there. Most of all, I cherished being welcomed into their home not as an outsider, but as family.
Then, one day, everything changed. I stopped by, and only my daughter-in-law was home. We had tea, as usual. But I sensed something odd in her expressionhesitation, as if she wanted to say something but couldnt. When the words finally came, they cut deep.
“It might be better if you didnt come round so often Let Oliver visit you instead,” she murmured, avoiding my gaze.
I hadnt expected it. Her tone was cold, and in her eyeswas it irritation? I couldnt tell. After that, I stopped visiting. I faded from their daily lives, not wanting to intrude. My son still came to see us, but my daughter-in-law never set foot in our home again.
I stayed quiet. Never complained. Yet inside, I was hurt. What had I done wrong? I only wanted to help. My whole life, Ive tried to keep harmony in the familynow, my presence had become a burden. It stung to realise I wasnt wanted.
Time passed. They had a childour long-awaited granddaughter. My husband and I were over the moon. But we kept our distance, only visiting when invited, taking the little one for walks so as not to impose. We did everything to avoid being in the way.
Then, one day, the phone rang. My daughter-in-law. Her voice was soft, almost formal.
“Could you look after Lily at our place today? Theres an emergency.”
It wasnt a request but a statement. As if *we* were the ones needing the favour. As if wed been begging for the chance. Yet not long ago, shed asked me to stay away
I took my time deciding. Pride told me to refuse. But reason whispered: *This is an opportunity.* Not for herfor Lily. For Oliver. For the sake of peace. Still, I answered differently.
“Bring her to ours instead. You asked me not to come over uninvited. I dont want to overstep.”
She fell silent. Then, after a pause, she agreed. She brought Lily round, and that day, my husband and I were in our element. We played, laughed, took her for walkstime flew. What happiness, being grandparents! Yet beneath it all, bitterness lingered. I didnt know how to move forward.
Should I keep my distance? Wait for her to reach out? Or swallow my pride and mend things? For Lilys sake, Id do almost anythingforgive the harsh words, rebuild what was broken.
But do they truly need me? Does she?
I wonder if shell ever understand how easily years of trust can be shattered. And how painstakingly slow it is to piece it back together.
