A Family Not Quite Our Own
“Mum, what letter are you hiding?”
“Oh, it’s just from the village, from your granddad,” she said, waving her hand as she went back to making dinner.
“What do you mean we have a granddad? You always said there was no one left on your side.”
For a moment, Mum paused from chopping vegetables, then resumed at double speed.
“Well, there is… so what? Many years ago, I left home. I wasn’t needed then, so why must I drop everything to help now?”
She started to cry, and I didn’t know what to say. In our family, we didn’t talk about her side of the family. All I knew was Mum came to the city right after school, worked hard, studied, lived in a dorm, and then I was born. My dad left before I was even born.
Mum held a grudge against her family, and I had no one to ask what happened back then, all those years ago.
That evening, after Mum fell asleep, I quietly took the letter from her room and read it. The handwriting was beautiful and neat—not what you’d expect from an old, sick man. It said Grandad was bedridden and needed good care and expensive medicine. They asked Mum to forget past grievances and her pride, as a life was at stake.
There was no signature. I glanced at the address. The village was not far from our city; my friend had a cottage a few miles from there. A chill ran down my spine… I often visited her, and all this time Grandad lived nearby. Why did Mum do this to us?
The next morning, as usual, I got ready for university but also packed some money and a bag with extra clothes and made my way to the bus station.
Arriving at the village, I took a deep breath of the fresh, clear country air. It wasn’t far to walk; a little crooked house stood just a few paces from the stop. I opened the gate and entered the yard.
“Who are you here for?” said a voice. I turned to see a woman in her forties sitting under an apple tree, sorting freshly picked mushrooms.
“I’m here for Simon, my granddad.”
“Ah, so you’re Shura’s daughter,” she smiled. “Well, hello! Come on in; I’ll put the kettle on. Granddad took a nap after lunch. He’s feeling a bit better.”
The cozy little house smelled of freshly baked pies. While the woman busied herself in the kitchen, I could take a better look at her. She astonishingly resembled Mum—the same gaze from slanted eyes, black hair like coal, even similar speech intonations. My eyes shifted to a faded photograph on the wall, displaying a smiling man and woman with two young girls who looked very much alike.
Catching my glance, the woman said, “That’s me, your mum, and our parents. I’m Sophia, her sister and your aunt,” she smiled.
“Nice to meet you. Why haven’t I heard of you before? Mum insisted we had no family.”
She sighed, sat down at the table, and started pouring tea.
“Your mum holds a grudge against us. I was born weak and was often sick, Mum was always in hospitals with me, and Dad worked day and night to support us and pay for treatments. Shura lived with Gran initially, then often stayed with the neighbor. Naturally, most parental attention went to me. From childhood, she convinced herself no one loved or needed her, even when things settled down. When she graduated, Shura moved to the city and we never saw her again…”
She sighed and added, “Drink your tea; you must be hungry from the journey. My kids, Alana and Leo, keep asking if we have any family. They’ll be thrilled to meet you.”
That evening, I met Granddad and my cousins. They were all very welcoming, and I finally understood what it truly meant to have a large, loving family gathered around one table. I stayed for a few days, bought the necessary medicines, and tried to help.
Mum called several times, urging me to come home immediately, but I couldn’t leave Granddad, and Aunt Sophia couldn’t manage work and taking care of him alone.
“You’ll cut into the budget—who’ll pay for your education?” Mum shouted over the phone. “I sacrificed everything—never slept just to raise you, and now you’re with people who did nothing for us.”
“Mum, what do you mean? You never even shared your address with them for fifteen years… Strangers, family—they are the same to me. He’s my granddad first and foremost. It’s time to let bygones be bygones. He needs care. If you’re not coming, I will stay. By the way, you have a wonderful sister and nieces and nephews. You’re wrong, Mum…”
She’d hang up, angry, and call again, but our talks led nowhere.
After a week, I returned to the city; I needed to continue my studies, as it was my final year, and my heart wasn’t settled.
The little money I earned by putting up flyers and tutoring a few hours a week, I sent to the village. But honestly, it was just pocket change…
The relationship with Mum felt like a taut string. Once, she even hid my passport, trying to keep me in the city over the holiday instead of letting me go to the village.
The year passed by in a blur of hustle, concerns, and constant arguments.
After getting my diploma, I packed my things and left.
In the village, Aunt Sophia helped me find a teaching job at the school, and life took its course. Granddad was up and about, taking short walks in the garden, and was delighted to have me there. But his eyes remained sad, waiting for his daughter…
September filled my life with a pleasant bustle; I was given a class of first-graders whom I quickly grew to love, and I eagerly headed to work each day as if it were a festival. Then I noticed that our history teacher, also a recent graduate from a city university, seemed to fancy me. I wondered what brought him to the village when everyone else usually longs for the city.
“Amy, don’t dismiss Alex,” Aunt Sophia would often whisper. “He’s a good lad, has skills, look at the house he built. And he didn’t stay in the city because he has a grandma here, all alone. He’s an orphan, so they live together.”
Soon, Alex invited me on a date, and our romance began. He became a regular at our home, Granddad approved of my choice, and when Alex proposed, Granddad blessed our union.
We set the wedding date for the end of April. I had informed Mum in advance through a letter, but received no reply. It hurt that she wouldn’t be there on such an important day…
On the eve of our wedding day, as Aunt Sophia, my two friends, and I busied ourselves in the kitchen preparing for the big celebration, there was a gentle knock on the door.
I rushed to answer it. Mum stood at the doorstep. Seeing me, she began to cry.
“I… I’m just here for a short while, I came to congratulate you…”
I invited her in, though she hesitated on the threshold. Then Aunt Sophia came from the kitchen, and Granddad emerged when he heard our voices.
Granddad embraced his daughter. They stood for a long while, wiping each other’s tears. Granddad whispered something to Mum, and she cried…
I’ve lived in the village for many years now, with a large, happy family of my own. The children are growing, and I continue teaching the early grades. Most importantly, I’ve found family connections Mum once deemed lost. Mum never left; she finally reconciled with her father and sister, allowing the past to remain just that—past.
