Then, out of nowhere, a message appeared on my phone. It was from her oldest—fourteen now, practically a young man.
Hi Grandma. Are you okay? I miss you. My little brother keeps asking about you too.
I stared at the words through tears, my heart breaking and healing all at once. They remembered me. They cared. And they were hurting too.
Now I’m caught in a place between longing and fear. I want to reach out, to show up, to remind them that my love hasn’t wavered. But I’m terrified that any move I make might trigger their mother’s anger and close the door even tighter.
I don’t want to cause more pain—not for my son, not for my daughter-in-law, and especially not for those children.
I just want to love my grandchildren—all of them—without being punished for it.
What should I do?
Note: This story is a work of fiction inspired by real events. Names, characters, and details have been altered. Any resemblance is coincidental. The author and publisher disclaim accuracy, liability, and responsibility for interpretations or reliance. All images are for illustration purposes only.
