I have found a new word to describe my sadness “tenebrific” it comes from the Latin and means producing darkness. My youngest daughter is the source. Last Tuesday was my granddaughter’s first birthday. I sent a card, but kept her gift here. It is still here.
On Saturday my other two daughters came round for a visit while Mike was having his dialysis. The eldest had made a special birthday cake and had travelled up to celebrate her niece’s birthday. I talked to them about how sad D. is making me. How upset I am that I have only seen my granddaughter three times. How I had invited her round only for her to forget, promising she would give me another date that was good for her. That was a month ago.
On Saturday afternoon after, the party at my ex-husband’s second home here in Wolverhampton, my son and daughter-in-law came to visit. Whilst they were talking to me and Mike I saw my d-i-l sending photos of their niece from his phone to hers. They didn’t offer to show them to me, I think they had been told not to.
It was nice to see three of my five children, the youngest son is too far away to pop down for the afternoon. But the feeling of happiness that I should have felt was over shadowed by the tenebrific rejection of my attempts to make things better with my daughter.
I keep being told that she will eventually soften or that my granddaughter will make her own mind up when she is old enough. I’m not sure my heart can wait.