When I finally found a love life of my own, my daughter called me mad and forbade me from seeing my granddaughter.
All my life, I’d devoted myself to my daughter, and then to my granddaughter. But it seems they’ve forgotten I have a right to my own happiness, independent of them. I married young—just twenty-one. My husband, Edward, was a quiet, hardworking man, the sort who never took a break. One day, he was offered a two-week job hauling freight to another region for extra pay.
He never came back. To this day, I don’t know what happened on that trip. I just got a phone call one day telling me Edward was gone. I was left alone with a two-year-old, utterly isolated. His parents had passed years before, and mine lived in another town. I didn’t know how to survive, how to provide for my child.
Thank God Edward’s one-bedroom flat passed to us. Without it, I don’t know what we’d have done. I was a teacher by training, so at first I tutored from home—but trying to teach while a toddler ran wild was impossible.
I couldn’t take a full-time job because of little Emily. Who leaves a two-year-old alone all day? One day, my mother saw my despair and took Emily to live with her. For almost two years, my girl stayed with her grandparents while I worked myself ragged: teaching, picking up side jobs, giving private lessons.
I visited Emily on weekends. Every goodbye shattered me. Then came the nursery waiting lists—I dreaded falling back into endless sick days, but luckily, she stayed healthy. Soon, it was just the two of us again. School followed, then university.
I worked myself to the bone so she’d have the best trainers, skirts, blouses. I rarely had just one job—always two, sometimes three. When Emily finally graduated and found work, I breathed easy for the first time. And yet, it hit me hard—because now, I was no longer needed.
I didn’t have to scramble for extra shifts anymore. My body had begun to falter, and my only companion was my cat. Emily visited some weekends, but entertaining her lonely mum all day clearly wasn’t part of her plans. I felt abandoned. Everything changed when my granddaughter, Lillian, was born.
A few months before her arrival, I moved in with Emily and her husband, Oliver. Shopping, cleaning, hospital bags—it all fell to me. And once Emily returned to work, Lillian became my whole world. I didn’t complain—it made me feel useful again.
This year, Lillian started school. I’d fetch her, feed her, help with homework, then take her to the park or after-school clubs. That’s where I met George. He was there with his granddaughter too. We got talking. He’d been widowed young, like me, and now helped his daughter raise her little girl.
When I met George, I never expected anything. Not once since Edward’s death had I been on a proper date. First, it was the baby, then work. After Lillian came along, I proudly called myself “Nana.” Do nans even have suitors? Turns out, they do. George made me feel like a woman again.
His first message inviting me out—just us, no kids—was a shock. With him, a new life began. We went to cinemas, theatres, festivals, exhibitions. For the first time in ages, I felt alive.
But my daughter didn’t like it. It started with a phone call one Saturday morning:
*“Mum, we’re dropping Lillian off for the weekend, yeah?”*
*“Sorry, love, I’ve made plans. We’re not even in town. Next time, give me notice—I’ll be happy to have her.”*
Emily scoffed and hung up. By Monday, George and I were back. I was glowing, full of energy. Even Lillian noticed the spark in my eyes. Things stayed quiet until Friday, when my phone rang again:
*“We’ve been invited out. Can you take Lillian?”*
*“We agreed on notice. My plans are set.”*
*“Off gallivanting with George again, are you? He’s scrambled your brain!”* she shrieked.
*“Emily, what’s got into you?”* I tried to calm her.
*“You’ve forgotten all about Lillian! You used to say you didn’t need romance—what changed?”*
*“Yes, it changed! I’m alive again. I wish you’d understand—woman to woman.”*
*“And how’s Lillian supposed to understand? You swapped her for some bloke!”*
*“What are you on about? I’m still with her most of the time! Just forget it—let’s move on.”*
*“I should forget it? You’re off your rocker. I won’t leave her with you again. Sort yourself out first—then we’ll talk.”* She slammed the phone down.
I broke down after that—sobbing until it hurt. After a lifetime of sacrifice, this was my reward? Erased, just like that. For daring to be happy.
I hope Emily cools off. She’ll call. She’ll understand. Because I can’t imagine life without her—or without Lillian.
