PART 2
The first few weeks were the hardest.
Every morning, I looked at the phone.
I was hoping it would sound.
I was hoping to see my daughter's name on the screen.
I was waiting for a message, a call, anything.
But nothing.
It was two weeks.
Then a month.
Then two.
My grandson turned eight.
I wasn't invited to the party.
My daughter texted me with photos.
“Look how nice everything was. Lucas was happy.”
I smiled.
But inside, something broke again.
Not because I hadn't been invited.
But because I understood that if I hadn't made that decision, I would have gone the same.
I would have smiled.
I would have pretended that everything was okay.
It would have been the grandpa left over.
And that...
That was never going to happen to me anymore.
