I was ten when my mother decided I didn’t fit into her perfect life. She had a new family, a new husband, and a new son—one who was everything she wanted. And me? I was an inconvenient reminder of a past she wanted to forget. So, she got rid of me, handing me over to my grandmother as if I were nothing more than a burden.
That was the day I learned that some wounds never heal.
At thirty-two, I stood at my grandmother’s grave, the rain soaking through my black dress, watching the only person who had ever truly loved me disappear beneath the earth. Across the cemetery, my mother stood under an umbrella with her perfect family—her husband, Charlie, and their golden son, Jason. She didn’t even look at me.
I hadn’t seen her in years. Not since the day she abandoned me for them.
When the funeral ended, she turned and walked away without a word, just like she had twenty-two years ago.
I remained, rooted in place, staring at the fresh mound of dirt that covered my grandmother—my real mother.
“I don’t know how to do this without you, Grandma,” I whispered.
She had been my everything. The one who took me in, loved me, and made sure I never felt alone. But no matter how much love she gave, the wound of my mother’s rejection festered.
I still remember the day she discarded me.
“Rebecca, come here,” she had called from the kitchen, sitting at the table with Grandma Brooke.
I walked in, my heart fluttering with hope.
“Yes, Mom?”
She rarely spoke to me anymore, so maybe—just maybe—this meant she had something good to say.
But her eyes were cold. “You’re going to live with Grandma now.”
The words didn’t make sense. “Like… for the weekend?”
“No,” she said, avoiding my gaze. “Permanently. Grandma’s going to take care of you from now on.”
I looked at my grandmother, who sat stiffly, her face tight with anger and grief.
“But why? Did I do something wrong?”
“Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” my mother snapped. “I have a real family now. You’re just… in the way.”
Grandma slammed her hand on the table. “Enough, Pamela! She’s a child, for God’s sake. Your child.”
My mother shrugged. “A mistake I’ve paid for long enough. Either you take her, or I’ll find someone who will.”
I stood there, tears streaming down my face, invisible to the woman who had given birth to me.
“Pack your things, sweetheart,” Grandma said softly, pulling me into her arms. “We’ll make this work, I promise.”
And she did.
Grandma’s house became my sanctuary. A place where I was wanted. A place where someone smiled when I walked into the room. She hung my drawings on the fridge, helped me with my homework, and tucked me into bed every night.
