“A Mother’s Burden”: Margaret Whitmore on Her Former Daughter-in-Law’s Life After Divorce
Margaret Whitmore of York could never reconcile herself to the way her son’s life—and that of his former wife—had unfolded. What young Laura had become after the divorce, Margaret could only describe as “carefree recklessness.”
“My son left Laura with their child—yes, I don’t defend him. Yet a mother’s heart, whether she wills it or not, still aches for him. He remarried quickly, to his first love—Marianne, whom he’d known since university. Back then, while he was away serving, she married his best friend. Now, divorced, they crossed paths in a supermarket, and well—everything spiraled anew. They’ve even a son together now. It seems all is well for him.”
Laura, he met after returning from service. They worked together, married swiftly, and little Sophie was born. At first, it seemed a sturdy union. But then, as it turned out, the old flame burned brighter.
The divorce passed quietly, without scandal. Her son left, surrendering the flat, furniture—everything—to Laura. He took only his belongings. Laura behaved with dignity, never hindering him or Margaret from seeing Sophie.
“But what she’s done since—it’s beyond comprehension,” Margaret sighed, shaking her head.
The neighbours, of course, were quick to question:
“What, does she drink? Carry on with men?”
“No,” Margaret frowned. “She doesn’t drink, nor is she the sort to chase after men. But she carries on as if life has never been sweeter. Always cheerful, always off somewhere—the countryside, picnics, hiking, hosting guests. As though she weren’t left divorced with a child, but he was!”
Laura took Sophie everywhere. Fresh air was good, she said, the child needed company, her friends had children too. But to Margaret, it was all wrong:
“Who knows who else is at these outings? Men? Divorcees? Drink? Cigarettes? The child sees and hears it all. What sort of upbringing is that?”
She was certain—Sophie would fare better with her:
“Under my care, she’d have proper home-cooked meals, visits to the theatre. Not traipsing about with strangers.”
Margaret had urged her son to speak to Laura:
“Tell her to keep some order in raising Sophie. She’s your daughter too. You’ve a new family—fine. But your girl shouldn’t grow up in such chaos.”
Her son merely shrugged:
“Mother, it’s not my place. I’m the one who broke the family. She knows how to live her life.”
He paid child support, saw Sophie when Laura brought her to visit. Yet Margaret hadn’t been invited to their home in ages:
“Always some excuse, always too busy. But I’m certain she’s afraid I’ll speak my mind. Perhaps she’s found some new man. And what if he mistreats Sophie?”
Recently, Laura had said plainly over the phone:
“If you keep meddling in my private affairs, you’ll see Sophie only once a month—in the park. Be grateful I haven’t cut you off entirely. Another woman in my place would’ve done so long ago, after your son betrayed me and left. I endure it for Sophie’s sake.”
Margaret was scandalized:
“Imagine, she blames me! Here I am, breaking my back for my granddaughter, and she acts as though I’m the villain!”
“What am I to do now?” she fretted to her friends. “Can I not even speak my mind when something displeases me? Or am I nothing to her now? Should I speak to her mother? The old matchmaker? Let her set her daughter right. I didn’t raise my son for this—to watch my granddaughter grow up in such frivolity.”
What say you, ladies? Am I right to worry? Or should I truly step aside? But how can I stand idle while my granddaughter is raised by such a flighty woman?
