“But why? Did I do something wrong?”
“Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” my mother said. “I have a real family now. You’re just… in the way.”
“Enough, Pamela! She’s a child, for God’s sake. Your child.”
My mother shouted. “A mistake I’ve paid for long enough. Either you take her, or I’ll find someone who will.”
“Pack your things, sweetheart,” Grandma said.
Still, the trauma of my mother’s rejection festered.
“Why doesn’t she want me?” I asked.
Her hands paused. “Oh, Becca. Some people don’t able to the love they should give. It’s not your fault, honey. Never think it’s your fault.”
“But she loves Jason.”
“Your mother is broken in ways I couldn’t fix. I tried, God knows I tried. But she’s always run from her mistakes instead of dealing with them.”
“So I’m a mistake?”
“No, honey. You are a gift. The best thing that ever occured to me. Your mother just can’t see past her own selfishness to recognize what she’s throwing away.”
“Will you ever leave me too, Grandma?” I muttered.
“Never,” she said. “As long as there’s breath in my body, you will always have a home with me.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
When I was 11, Grandma insisted we visit for a “family dinner.” She thought it was crucial to keep some connection, however tenuous. Deep down, I hoped my mother realized what she’d thrown away and welcome me back with open arms.
She barely grasped at me.
