I don't know what to do anymore, especially considering my son is almost thirty. Every mother with a shred of responsibility lives in fear of hearing that she's failed at her job. I'm exactly that kind of woman. I don't want to believe it, though; I hate to think I made some mistake years ago that's now impossible to fix.
I'm writing this in the hope that someone might have a suggestion. I live with my second husband, who is the stepfather to my grown son. My son has a family of his own now—he and his wife are parents to two adorable little girls. They live right nearby, just across the street from my place.
It's not as if we've always been perfectly in sync. We've had our share of misunderstandings, arguments, and even full-blown shouting matches. My son was never a star student, but I could never really stay angry at him for that, since he missed so much school due to being constantly sick. His father left us when he was young, though he was old enough to remember him. He even tried to track him down once, under the impression that I was the one forbidding them from speaking. But the truth was his father simply never made an effort to reach out. Once my son realized that, it became much easier for us to get along.
Whenever I see Mark now, I can't shake the feeling that I've done something to him. I've tried talking to his wife, Sarah, but she just shrugs her shoulders. Some might think the issue lies with my second husband, Jim. But Jim hardly ever interfered in our relationship. Once, Mark told him to his face that he had no right to yell at him or try to discipline him because he wasn't his real father. Jim, who is an incredibly sensitive and soft-hearted man, took that to heart and never tried to play the role of the "tough" father figure again. So, I had to be both mom and dad for the two of us.
***
One day, I asked him to come over and help me with something. I don't even remember exactly what it was—something trivial. I think I needed help figure out a setting on the TV or the computer. He just stood up from the table, grabbed Sarah's hand, and walked out of my house.
It seemed to come out of absolutely nowhere. I honestly don't know what I could have done. Now, if I want to see my granddaughters, I have to text or call Sarah. She clearly knows what's going on, but she won't tell me. She just says, "You two need to work it out yourselves; I'm staying out of it. I'm neutral."
Given that I'm not getting any younger, I don't want to hold a grudge or start some big dramatic confrontation. To be honest, I'm terrified that he'll just ban me from seeing the girls altogether. Right now, I'm not pushing the issue. I'm just praying and hoping that everything will turn out okay.
I try to call or text him occasionally, just to see if the ice has started to melt. I thought that if I stopped reaching out entirely, he might start to miss me and come around on his own. But in the several months we haven't spoken, he hasn't stopped by or called once. I'm not even asking for advice on what to do—just an opinion on what could have caused such a sudden change.
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