**Diary Entry – 18th May**
It’s been six months of silence—six months since I last saw my son and grandson. All because of one refusal. My daughter-in-law, Emily, asked me to babysit so she could go out with her friends, and I said no. Why should I drop everything for her leisure? It wasn’t an emergency—just a night out. Was I wrong to stand my ground?
My son, William, married Emily five years ago. We’d always gotten along well. I visited often, invited them over, helped with expenses, bought gifts—anything to keep their family strong and my son happy. There were never any arguments; I felt needed, even loved.
Then, a year ago, little Oliver was born. I was overjoyed and promised Emily my full support. I never said no when she needed me for doctor’s appointments or paperwork—those were important. William works long hours at the factory, so I became her lifeline.
But one evening, she called. Not for errands or rest, but to ask me to watch Oliver so she could “unwind with the girls.” I was stunned. “A baby isn’t something you just leave behind for a night out,” I thought. “Maternity leave is for your child, not for parties.” I refused firmly: “Oliver is *your* responsibility. If it were urgent, of course I’d help. But not for this.”
At a year and two months, Oliver was a whirlwind. I’m in my sixties—keeping up with him exhausted me. I told Emily honestly, but she took it as an insult.
Since then, she’s cut me off. No calls, no visits, no replies. Worse—she’s turned William against me. When I try to reach him, he dismisses me: “Emily’s busy with Oliver.” But I know the truth. My number’s blocked. I’ve called from friends’ phones—Emily answers, then hangs up the moment she hears my voice.
The pain is unbearable. A year without Oliver’s laughter, without holding him. I ache imagining him growing up without knowing me. “Was one refusal worth this?” I wonder. Emily’s grudge feels cruel, and William’s silence cuts deeper than any words.
The worst? The rumours. Through mutual friends, I’ve heard Emily calling me a “selfish grandmother who doesn’t care.” After all I’ve given, to be painted as the villain—it guts me. Should I beg forgiveness? For what? I only set a boundary, and now I’m exiled.
My house, once filled with family, is empty. Was I wrong? Should a grandmother sacrifice everything, even her own well-being, for her daughter-in-law’s whims? Or has Emily gone too far?
I don’t know anymore. I just miss my boy. And William—my only child—won’t even look at me.
How do you mend something when the other side won’t even speak?