The brochure still sits on my kitchen table – the Rhine River cruise I’ll never take. At my age, you learn that time is precious, which is why I refused when my daughter asked for my travel fund to treat my granddaughter’s illness.
“I’ve earned this,” I told her. What I didn’t say: After nursing my husband through his final illness, I couldn’t face another medical crisis.
My punishment came swiftly. I returned from the grocery store to find the locks changed. Through the window, I saw my daughter boxing up my photo albums. “We need the rental income,” she said through the door, her voice hollow with disappointment.
The cruelest part? She’s right – the house is legally hers. We signed it over years ago to protect assets. Now I understand that while paperwork can transfer property, nothing can prepare you for the moment your own child treats you like a stranger.
As I sort through thrift store dishes in my new efficiency apartment, I wonder: Did I abandon my family when they needed me most? Or did they abandon me when I needed understanding?
