**Diary Entry 15th October**
*”Were better off without you,” my son said when I came to make amends.*
I stood on the doorstep of his flat, clutching a bouquet of chrysanthemums, my legs trembling beneath me. In Maxs eyes, there was no joy, no surprisejust exhaustion and something close to indifference.
*”Max, darling,”* I whispered. *”May I come in?”*
He stepped aside without a word. I walked into the hallway, glancing around. Everything had changed since my last visit. The walls were repainted in soft grey, the furniture was new, even the air smelled differentfresh, without the lingering scent of my perfume or hand cream.
*”It looks lovely,”* I ventured.
*”Emma did most of it,”* Max replied curtly.
From the kitchen came the clatter of dishes. My daughter-in-law was cooking dinner, right on schedule. I knew her routine better than my own.
*”Wheres little Harry?”* I asked, thinking of my five-year-old grandson.
*”Asleep. Its late, Mum.”*
The reproach in his voice was faint, but I caught it. He was rightI *had* come late. Id spent the whole day pacing outside their building, gathering my courage. Three times Id approached the front door, only to turn back.
*”Max, we need to talk,”* I said.
He led me to the living room and sat across from me, arms folded over his knees. His posture was closed, guarded.
*”Go on.”*
I set the flowers on the coffee table and took a steadying breath.
*”I came to apologise. For everything between us. I know Ive been in the wrong.”*
*”Mum,”* Max shook his head, *”weve had this conversation before.”*
*”No, we havent. Weve shouted, blamed each other, slammed doors. Weve never really talked.”*
Emma walked in thentall, slim, her short hair framing a tired face. She froze when she saw me.
*”Good evening, Emma,”* I said.
*”Hello,”* she replied stiffly.
An awkward silence settled. Emma exchanged a glance with Max, and he gave her a barely perceptible nod.
*”Max said you wanted to talk,”* she said, perching on the edge of the sofa. *”Were listening.”*
My heart ached. They sat together like a united front, while I felt like an outsider, humoured out of politeness.
*”I realise now how wrong I was,”* I began slowly. *”Meddling in your lives, criticising, giving unsolicited advice. I meant well, but it only made things worse.”*
*”Much worse,”* Max finished for me.
*”Yes. Far worse.”*
I remembered the day everything had fallen apart. Harry had fallen ill, his temperature spiking to 39 degrees. Emma wanted to call a doctor, but I insisted on my old remedyrubbing him with whiskey.
*”I treated Max this way, and he turned out fine,”* Id argued.
*”Margaret, its dangerous at that temperature,”* Emma had countered.
*”What do you know? Ive got more experience than youve got years!”*
Emma had called an ambulance anyway. The doctor confirmed she was rightthe whiskey could have harmed him. Instead of admitting fault, Id accused her of undermining me.
*”You think Im a fool,”* Id shouted. *”You believe Id harm my own grandson?”*
*”Mum, enough,”* Max had cut in. *”Emmas right. Times have changed. Medicine too.”*
*”Oh, so now your wife matters more than your own mother!”*
That row had ended with me storming out. Four months of silence had followedfour months of agony.
*”I was wrong,”* I said now, looking at Emma. *”You were right to call the doctor. I I was just afraid of becoming unnecessary.”*
*”Unnecessary?”* Max frowned. *”Where did that come from?”*
*”You married, had a child. Emma manages the house, works, raises Harry perfectly. And I I was used to being the centre of your life. When I realised I wasnt, I clung to any influence I had left.”*
Emma stayed quiet, studying her hands. Max rubbed his temples, weighing my words.
*”Mum, you do understand an adult cant stay tied to their parents forever?”*
*”I do. Now, I do.”*
I pulled a handkerchief from my bag, dabbing my eyes. The tears came unbidden, though Id sworn not to cry.
*”These months without you were hell. I thought of Harry every day, worried how he was. I saw you once at the shopswanted to approach, but didnt dare.”*
*”Harry asked about you,”* Emma said softly.
*”Really?”*
*”Really. He drew a picture last week and said, This is for Granny Maggie. I didnt know what to say.”*
My throat tightened. My grandson remembered me. Missed me.
*”Could I see him? Tomorrow, when hes awake?”*
Emma looked at Max. He shrugged.
*”I dont know, Mum. Well need to think.”*
*”Think about what?”*
*”Whether history will just repeat itself,”* Max explained. *”Youve apologised, and thats good. But has anything actually changed? Do you still think you know whats best for us?”*
The question caught me off guard. *Had* anything changed? Had I truly learned, or was I just lonely?
*”I wont interfere again,”* I promised.
*”Youve said that before, Mum.”*
*”This time I mean it.”*
Emma stood and walked to the window, watching teenagers kicking a football under the streetlamps.
*”Margaret,”* she said without turning, *”do you know what happened after our last argument?”*
*”No.”*
*”Max barely spoke for days. Harry cried, asking why Granny didnt visit anymore. And I felt guilty, even though I knew Id done the right thing.”*
She turned to face me.
*”I thought Id broken your family. That because of me, a son had fallen out with his mother.”*
*”Thats not true,”* Max cut in. *”Emma isnt to blame.”*
*”I know,”* I nodded. *”The fault is mine. My stubbornness, my refusal to accept my children have grown up.”*
I rose and approached Emma.
*”Emma, forgive me. For all these years, for my blindness, for failing to appreciate you. Youre a wonderful wife and mother.”*
She looked down, her eyes glistening.
*”Ive been harsh sometimes, too. Not always kind.”*
*”You had every right to defend your family.”*
We fell quiet. Outside, dusk had deepened, the streetlamps casting long shadows. From the flat next door, the muffled sounds of a TV drifted through the walls.
*”Max,”* I said, *”what did you mean when you said you were better off without me?”*
He met my eyes, his own full of quiet pain.
*”The truth, Mum. It *was* easier. No one second-guessed Emmas choices, redid her housework, lectured her on raising Harry. The flat felt peaceful.”*
Each word stung, but I let them settle. I *needed* to hear this.
*”So what now? Should I stay away entirely?”*
*”I dont know,”* he admitted. *”I want to believe youve changed. But I cant go through that again.”*
I sank back into the armchair, feeling like I was on trial, fighting to prove I still belonged in their lives.
*”I understand your hesitation. Im not asking you to forget the past. Maybe we could take it slowly? Ill visit occasionally, not stay long. If I overstep, tell me outright.”*
*”And you wont take offence?”* Emma asked.
*”I might. But Ill try to see its fair.”*
Max and Emma exchanged another glance, something unspoken passing between them.
*”Alright,”* Max said finally. *”Well try. But with conditions.”*
*”Name them.”*
*”No unsolicited advice about Harry. No comments on how we keep our home, what we eat or wear. And if we ask you to back off, you do.”*
The terms were strict, but fair.
*”Agreed.”*
*”One more thing,”* Emma added. *”Warn us before visiting. Were not always ready for guests.”*
*”Of course.”*
Another silence. The tension had eased,
