I wasnt invited to the wedding because I was an “outsider,” but when it came to my flat, I suddenly became “family.”
Nearly ten years ago, my son got married. His wife, Emily, had been married before and brought a daughter from her first marriage into our family. I welcomed them both as my own, opening my heart without hesitation. Over the years, I did my best to support themsometimes financially, sometimes by babysitting so they could catch a break from daily stresses. With my daughter-in-law, things were always strainedno outright fights, just a chill I could never melt.
Emilys first husband paid child support regularly but wanted nothing to do with his daughterhed erased her from his life. Last year, my granddaughter, whom I loved as my own flesh and blood, got married. And thats when it all unravelled. Neither my son nor I received an invitation. The reason? The ceremony was for “family only,” and apparently, we didnt qualify. My son, whod raised this girl for nearly a decade, whod given everything, was cast aside. Meanwhile, her birth father, whod only ever remembered her when sending money, strutted among the guests as if he belonged.
The news hit me like a thunderbolt. Id adored that girl, cheered her successes, helped whenever I couldonly to be met with indifference and a closed door. Id considered her my granddaughter, and she wiped me from her life without a second thought. My son stayed quiet, though I saw the pain eating him alivehe swallowed the humiliation, buried it deep, but the damage was done. The hurt cut twicefor me and for him, crushed under the weight of such injustice.
A year ago, I inherited a small studio in Reading. Id planned to rent it out to supplement my modest pensionliving on it alone is tough, and every extra pound helps. Then, out of nowhere, a call. Emilys voice, soft, almost tenderunrecognisable. She tells me my “granddaughter” is expecting a baby and the young couple have nowhere to live. She asks me to hand over the flat so they can move in. I was stunned. At the wedding, we were strangers, unwantednow, when a roof is needed, Im suddenly “close family”?
Her words left a bitter taste. I havent given an answer yet, but everything in me screams, “No!” Maybe Im clinging to the past, holding onto the hurt like an anchor, but I cant forgive such betrayal. My heart aches with memorieshow I celebrated her first steps, bought her gifts, cherished her as part of my soul. Now, she and her mother see me as just another resource to use and discard.
I dont understand how my son, my James, endures this. How he lives with a woman who refuses to see his effort, his sacrifices, or even his mother. He stays silent, looks away, and I watch him slowly wither in this marriage. As for me, Im left with a choicegive in and swallow my pride once more, or finally say, “Enough,” and salvage whats left of my dignity. The flat isnt just bricks and mortarits my safety net, my little haven in old age. Handing it over to those who erased me when I was no longer useful? No. Thats more than I can bear.
Im still torn. Part of me wants to be kind, generousthe way a mother and grandmother should be. But the other part, weary of hurt and deceit, whispers, “You owe them nothing.” This battle inside me rages day and night, leaving only a shadow of the woman who once believed in the power of family.
