For six hours I wondered: Why was my daughter-in-law so hostile toward us?
For six long years I asked: Why did she treat us with such cold disdain?
I havent spoken to my son Edward in six years. I wasnt even invited to his wedding. I knew my daughter-in-law Sophie was to blame. I didnt understand why, but her silence cut deep.
My husband and I have three sons, though Edward is his eldest from a previous marriage. Of course, I love them all, but Edward was so longed forhe remained my pride and joy.
Six years ago, Edward met Sophie. From the start, things went wrong. My first impression of her was pleasant. Her first visit to our home in York passed without incident. But the second time, everything changed. We sat at the table when she suddenly told Edward, *”You dress terribly. Ill buy you proper clothes.”* He replied, *”Dont botherI like what I like.”* I agreed. Sophie scowled but said nothing.
The next day, Edward kissed me goodbye, but Sophie didnt come near me. At the time, I didnt grasp what had happened. Only later did I realiseone small remark had earned me a daughter-in-laws wrath.
I wasnt even invited to their wedding.
After months of silence, Edward invited us to a birthday dinner in ManchesterSophies hometown. We planned to stay at a hotel, but Edward insisted we sleep at their house, though he warned we might not see Sophieshe was busy with her parents shop.
We were meant to meet for lunch, but she never appeared. Days later, Edward told me, *”Mum, Im marrying Sophie.”* He added they wanted a small gathering, not a grand affair. I didnt mindI told him I was happy for him.
A week later, he called. *”Sophie doesnt want you at the wedding,”* he said. Only my husband was invited. Not even his brothers. I cant describe the pain of that moment. I handed the phone to my husband, who said, *”I wont go without her and the boys.”* Edward hung up in anger.
Sophie tried to reach me afterward, but my husband always answered. Finally, she got through, snapping, *”Oh, there you are!”* My patience snapped too. *”I dont want to hear from you again,”* I said. That was our last conversation.
Soon after, they left for Belgium. For two years, we heard nothing. My sister wrote to themSophie replied, *”Edward has a new family now.”* In truth, he only kept in touch with his brother William, visiting occasionally but never coming home. Six years passed.
A few months ago, I tried to reach out, missing him terribly. I sent two lettersone to Edward, one to Sophie. No reply.
When my mother died three years ago, Edward didnt come to the funeral. Nor when his elder sister passed. In six years, we received one brief texton my husbands birthday. Then silence.
A part of me died. I heard theyd moved, but I dont even know where. I think of Edward every day. The worst part? I dont understand why this happened. I used to think Sophie manipulated him, that she wanted him all to herself. I asked: *Why does she hate us?* I dont knowshe never told me. Maybe I started it. How I wish things had been different!
Two months ago, my husband and I won a short trip to Belgium in a raffle. Wandering a quiet village, we stopped at a playground, dreaming of grandchildren. A sweet little boy ran up to us, chasing a ball. He looked just like Edward as a child! I smiled; my husband kicked the ball back, and they played. Then a voice called*”Oliver!”*
I couldnt believe it. There stood Edward and Sophie. After tearful embraces, we stumbled over words, all of us lost in years of hurt. Wed all built walls, stopped trying. Yes, I admitif someone had told me, *”I never want to hear from you again,”* I might not have reached out either. But time changed us. And the question*”Where are my grandparents?”*made our grandson reconsider.
We left the tour group, staying in that little Belgian village as if starting anewolder, wiser, ready to mend what was broken.
Now we make up for lost years, cherishing love and respect, at last.
