At long last, I had a life of my own—but my daughter thinks I’ve gone mad and forbade me from seeing my granddaughter.
My whole life, I gave everything to my daughter. Then to my granddaughter. Never once did I complain or ask for anything in return. Yet somehow, they’ve both forgotten I’m not just a free nanny or a housemaid. I’m a woman. With my own heart, my own desires, my own right to happiness.
I was twenty-one when I married. My husband, Thomas, was quiet, steady, a hard worker. We didn’t have much, but we had peace. When my daughter turned two, he took a lorry out—some delivery job, driving goods across the country. Did he come back? No. He died. How? They never told me. And there I was, alone with little Emily in my arms.
His parents were already gone. Mine lived far away. There was no one to help. The only lifeline was the house Thomas left me. I tried working from home—private tutoring, since I’d trained as a teacher. But trying to teach while a restless toddler dashed about? Near impossible.
Then my mother took Emily in. For nearly two years, she lived with her grandparents while I ran myself ragged. Teaching full-time, tutoring in the evenings. Every weekend, I made the trip just to see her. Every time I left, my heart cracked a little more.
When Emily started nursery, I prayed she wouldn’t fall sick—because I couldn’t afford to stay home. Luck was with us; she stayed sturdy. Then came school. Then university. I carried it all alone. Worked sun-up to sundown just to clothe her, feed her, give her lessons.
When she graduated and found a job, I felt it for the first time: it’s over. I’m free. Except freedom meant loneliness. My parents had passed, I’d never had time for friends, just running in circles of duty. Even the cat became my only conversation.
And then Charlotte was born. I’d moved in with Emily months before the birth—helping with shopping, laundry, packing the hospital bag. Then, when Emily went back to work early, I took over the baby entirely.
I didn’t complain. If anything, I bloomed. I felt needed again. Once Charlotte started school, I’d fetch her after classes. We’d have lunch, do homework, stroll through the park. And on one of those walks, I met Henry.
He was a grandfather too, raising his granddaughter after his daughter’s divorce. His story mirrored mine—widowed young, pouring himself into family. We started talking. The conversations grew longer. Then one day, he asked to meet… just us. For coffee.
Honestly? I froze. The last time a man had asked me out was thirty years ago. But I said yes. And just like that, joy crept back in. We went to the cinema, museums, aimless walks. I felt like a woman again.
Emily didn’t understand. One morning, she rang me:
*”James and I are visiting friends. Can Charlotte stay with you this weekend?”*
*”Sorry, love, but I’m away then. You should’ve asked sooner.”*
*”Oh, don’t tell me—it’s him again. Henry, is it?”* Her voice turned sour.
I was stunned. *”Emily, what’s this tone? You know I’d drop anything for Charlotte. But I’m not an on-call babysitter.”*
*”You’ve forgotten all about her! Just months ago, you said you didn’t care for romance, now you’re gallivanting about like some—some teenager!”*
*”Yes,”* I said, quiet. *”Because I’m alive. Because I’m happy. And I thought you’d be happy for me.”*
*”Happy?! You traded your granddaughter for some old bloke! Get a grip, Mum—you’re losing it! Don’t expect to see Charlotte till you sort yourself out!”*
I sat there, numb. This was my daughter—the one I’d given everything to. The one I’d raised alone, sacrificed for, bent over backwards to support. And now? I was a *”mad old crone,”* *”off her rocker”* for daring to want joy?
I cried all night. Henry didn’t pry—just held me and murmured, *”You’ve every right to live. To love. To be loved.”*
But inside, I was crumbling. I can’t imagine life without Emily. Without Charlotte. The thought of losing them for good terrifies me. Maybe she’ll cool off. Maybe she’ll call. Maybe she’ll see—her mother didn’t stop being a grandmother. She just became a woman again. One who, after decades, finally let herself be happy.
And haven’t I earned that much?…
