When You’re Cut Off as a Grandmother – A Quiet Grief That Stays

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Preface

This is a post about late summer quietly approaching, about life in the campervan and an unexpected family visit – but also about longing. Longing for grandchildren, for a son, and for a time that may never return.
It’s also a post about wanting the best for others – even when you’ve been left out.

When Summer Begins to Slip Away

Here I am again. Sitting in the campervan, writing as I usually do – but the feeling is different now. Not as vibrant as it is in spring. Summer is starting to pull back, even though I don’t really want to admit it. But the truth is: we are now closer to autumn than to summer in all its glory.

Of course, autumn can also be beautiful. But it will be a long while before those summer evenings return. Still – it’s not over yet. There are days and nights left to enjoy. We can’t give up just yet.
It’s still summer, even if we’re nearing its final chapter.

An Unexpected Visit and a Quiet Thought

We’ll be staying at the campsite one more day. Today, I found out that my husband’s brother is coming here – something I didn’t know until we arrived yesterday. It will be nice.
Still, my mind is elsewhere.

I saw pictures on Instagram – photos of my grandchildren, taken by my son’s wife.
Apparently, they’ve been to Tirilparken, a Norwegian amusement park.
And it hurts.
Not because the kids are having fun – but because I don’t get to be part of it. Because I’m not allowed to be their grandmother.

They Chose to Cut Me Off – But the Children Did Not

Hugo has grown this summer. Emilia looks so big. I get to see Alfred now and then, because my daughter is home when he’s with her. But Emilia and Hugo… I don’t see them.
My son has chosen to keep his distance. And I have to respect that.

It’s his choice.
But the sorrow is mine.

What hurts the most is that the children never made this choice. They didn’t choose to cut me off.
That decision was made by their parents.

And it doesn’t end there.
My daughter – their aunt – isn’t allowed to see them either.
Instead, my son and his wife spend time with her former partner.
Maybe it’s nice for the grandchildren to go on fun outings – but it still feels strange. Deeply strange.

One Cake Too Many – Or a Long-Buried Hurt?

It all started with a conflict. Or more accurately – a cake.
There was no lactose-free cake for little Hugo at a party, only lactose-free coconut balls. And that was the final straw.

I understand that there’s more behind it. There usually is.
But that was the reason they could point to.
That was the thing they made into a decision.
I forgot to buy lactose-free candy for Easter. A small thing – but apparently, a big one.

When my children were small, I used to tell people not to worry about treats.
I brought my own for them, since they were also sensitive to dairy.
If someone insisted on getting something, I offered a few suggestions.

But this time… the cake became a symbol.
I think they had planned this long before the cake.
They needed a reason to justify it. And I just… slipped into the conflict.
I’ve seen this before.
Back then, it took a long time before I got to see my son again. And little Emilia.

This time…
maybe it’s forever.

I Just Hope He Doesn’t Feel Guilty

There’s nothing I can do. It’s their life.
But I carry it.
I carry the grief.

Still – my biggest hope isn’t that he’ll come back.
It’s that he won’t carry guilt.
I don’t want him to stand in front of the mirror one day, filled with regret.
I want him to feel he did what he needed to do, for his own sake.
That this was the best way he could cope.

What he’s coping with – I don’t know.
But I hope that’s what he feels.
That it was right for him.

A Mother’s Love Never Ends

I want him to be happy.
I want him to have a good life – one where he can breathe, laugh, and live fully.

He is my son.
And I love him more than he’ll ever understand.

Maybe that’s exactly why I wish for him to see clearly.
To know that this choice – cutting me off – was the best thing he could do.
For himself. And for his little children.

Between the Lines – My Voice

I want my voice between the lines to say this:

I am a mother who carries both pain and love in the same breath.
I do not turn away from what hurts, but I do not write from bitterness.
I write to understand. To remain. And to keep loving.

I am here.
I didn’t choose this – but I still choose to stand in love.

I also write so that you know you are not alone, if you find yourself in a similar situation.
I know this is often met with silence – and that’s why I write.
So that you who carry this kind of story can see that we are carrying it together.

AHA – Between the Lines

I see that it’s still summer, even as autumn creeps in.
I see children I no longer get to meet – but I still see them with love.
I see my own sorrow – and I choose not to turn it into guilt.
It hurts, but it’s not cold.
It’s just love with nowhere to land.
And maybe that’s why I write – just to be able to love anyway.

Reflection

Grief follows no rules. There is no manual for how to handle being cut off – especially not by your own child.
But it is possible to keep loving, even when the relationship is broken.
To stand in love, even when you get nothing in return.
It’s possible to love – even when love becomes a one-way street.

”Yesterday has already laid itself to rest in history. Tomorrow waits ahead. But right now – this is where life is happening.”
– Carina Ikonen Nilsson