When my daughter Emily was ten, I promised her she could become anyone she wanted and that I’d always be her soft place to land. I never imagined she’d be the one to shut the door.
It happened one quiet afternoon when she called to say she didn’t want me visiting. Her husband, Mark, thought my “single mother mindset” wasn’t good for their daughter, Lily. His words stung, but Emily’s agreement broke me.
For months, I drifted through days, replaying every moment, wondering where I’d gone wrong. Then I met Maggie, another mother estranged from her child. Together, we found purpose helping single parents and their children. Slowly, I learned that healing begins when we choose to give love again, even when it’s been refused.
A year later, Emily wrote, apologizing. She missed me — and wanted me to meet Lily again.
When I saw them, all was fragile but hopeful. Forgiveness didn’t erase the pain, but it made room for peace.
Love, I’ve learned, isn’t about being needed. It’s about showing up — again and again — until grace opens the door.
