I was just five years old as my mom dropped me off at Grandma Rose\u2019s doorstep, mascara running as she explained her new husband didn\u2019t want kids.<\/p>\n
\u201cThis is best for everyone,\u201d she whispered and then kissed my forehead and walked away without looking back.<\/p>\n
I cried, clutching my stuffed bunny, when Grandma wrapped me in her arms and promised I was safe.<\/p>\n
For illustrative purpose only
\nOver the years, Grandma became my world\u2014reading me bedtime stories, appearing at every school event, and filling our home with warmth.<\/p>\n
However, late at night, I\u2019d draw pictures of my mom and me, imagining a life where she had stayed.<\/p>\n
I kept those drawings in a shoebox under my bed, and although I built a full life\u2014with college, a job, and my own apartment\u2014I never stopped wondering why she left.<\/p>\n
\nFor illustrative purpose only
\nThen, after Grandma\u2019s sudden passing, I felt completely alone.<\/p>\n
That\u2019s when my mother suddenly appeared at my door, claiming she regretted everything.<\/p>\n
She said she wanted to be part of my life again, and in spite of my hesitation, I let her in.<\/p>\n
Initially, things felt hopeful\u2014lunches together, teary conversations, and photos of old memories.<\/p>\n
see continuation on next page<\/p>\n\n