When a Mother Becomes a Guest: Why I No Longer Open the Door for Her
Margaret arrived in another town to visit her daughter. Emily greeted her mother politely, as one should, but without warmth. Weary of loneliness and strained relations with her own parents, Margaret decided to stay for a few days. That evening, over supper, her daughter suddenly asked:
“Mum, when are you planning to go home?”
“I thought I’d stay a little longer,” Margaret replied hesitantly.
“I think it’s time you left,” Emily said firmly.
“Fancy that—even your own mother is in the way now,” Margaret muttered bitterly.
“Mum, after what you did, I don’t want to see you,” Emily blurted out.
“What? What did I do?” Margaret froze, bewildered.
But Emily remembered it all too clearly.
She had been just seven when her parents divorced. From then on, she lived with her grandparents, who became her family. As for her mother… her mother had chosen another life—new men, new lovers, new distractions. The child grew up feeling guilty for the divorce, for the fact that her grandfather worked well into his old age while her grandmother toiled endlessly in the kitchen. When Margaret’s life was smooth, she might call or even visit with a cake. But the moment trouble struck, she locked herself away, lashed out, and vanished.
There had been many men in her life, but one—Robert—was the final straw. Slippery, self-satisfied, unpleasant. When Margaret tried to move him into her parents’ house, they gave their daughter an ultimatum: him or her family. She chose him.
“Your mother lives across town now,” her grandmother had told thirteen-year-old Emily flatly.
“And me?”
“You stay with us. It’s all right, love. We’ll manage.”
But Emily knew—her mother had betrayed her.
At first, Margaret didn’t visit at all. Then she would appear in the kitchen, take jars of preserves, and disappear again. A girl grows, needing someone to talk to—first love, first heartbreak. Her grandmother wouldn’t understand; her grandfather stayed silent. And her mother? She lived her new life until Robert left her. She returned broken, pitiful, and instead of embracing her daughter, she wept in her room. Even when she found another man—Andrew—it all repeated. He was dull, useless, and shameless. He moved into her parents’ house, refused to help, and avoided her grandfather, the one who carried the whole household.
Emily grew more distant. She went to university in another city, rarely visiting home. Her mother kept chasing men, talking of fresh starts, making plans behind her back. Then Emily received news: her father’s parents had left her a flat. Unexpected, but decisive. She claimed it at once, moving out without hesitation.
Her mother found out by chance. Immediately, she declared:
“Brilliant! I’ll move in with you—help with the repairs, find proper work in the city.”
“You didn’t ask,” Emily said calmly. “I’m not living with you.”
“Ungrateful! You wouldn’t even exist without me!” Margaret snapped.
Emily stayed silent. She remembered being small, lonely, abandoned. Her mother had left her then—she didn’t need her now.
Margaret was hurt but persistent. She called, visited “just for a day,” lingered for a week. Emily endured it until, finally, she said:
“Mum, it’s time to go home. I have my own life. Help Gran and Grandad instead.”
“Am I in the way?” Margaret sneered. “Typical. You needed me as a child—now I’m just a nuisance.”
“No, Mum. You made your choice when you left me for a man. I grew up. Thank you for teaching me not to depend on anyone.”
Margaret left. She complained to her parents, who pitied her—but they understood their granddaughter. They’d been there when she cried at night. Her mother? She’d distanced herself long ago. Soon, she had a new suitor—Michael. Seemed serious, respectable. She wanted Emily to meet him.
“Come by,” Emily said.
She greeted them civilly. Spoke with Michael—just like the others. Within months, the affair crumbled. Margaret spoke of moving in again. Again, she was refused.
“Don’t bring it up anymore,” Emily said. “There’s no place for you. Not in the flat, not in my life.”
And that was the end of it.
Emily lives in her flat now. Renovated it with friends. Works, builds her life. Without hysterics. Without grudges. Without her mother.
Because not everyone who gives you life gets to stay in it.
