MY DAUGHTER FORGOT MY 90TH BIRTHDAY – I SPENT IT ALONE UNTIL THE DOORBELL RANG
My name is Patty, and at 90 years old, I can truly say I’ve lived a blessed and happy life. Since my husband passed away a few years ago, it’s been just my daughter, Angie, and me.
I was filled with joy as I planned my 90th birthday celebration. Angie promised that she and my grandchildren would visit and spend the day with me.
Seeing my grandchildren always warms my heart, reminding me of the days when my husband and I were raising Angie. They look so much like her and also bear a striking resemblance to their father, Angie’s ex-husband, John.
I adored John, so their divorce was heartbreaking. John was the closest thing I had to a son. He was kind and had a heart of gold. Even now, he writes to me every Christmas. I dearly wish he and Angie could have worked things out, but sometimes life doesn’t go as we hope.
My birthday finally arrived, and I was over the moon with excitement. But as the day went on, I began to worry. It was almost lunchtime, and I still hadn’t heard a peep from Angie. I called her several times, but she didn’t answer any of my calls.
I tried calling again, but this time it went straight to voicemail. I hoped she was just busy or driving. As time passed, it dawned on me that I would regretfully spend this day alone, just like many other days.
Then, the doorbell finally rang. If my knees weren’t so fragile, I would have leaped up at that very moment. It had been a while since I’d seen Angie and the kids, and this was the ultimate birthday gift.
But as I approached the glass door, my heart sank. I saw a masculine silhouette on the other side. When I opened the door, there stood John, holding flowers and gifts.
“Happy Birthday, Ma!” John said with the warmest smile.
“John?! Oh, wow! You didn’t have to,” I replied, my voice filled with surprise and joy.
“Just brought you a little something to celebrate you on this wonderful day,” John said.
“Is that my favorite chocolate I see there? Oh, wow! You remembered!” I responded, trying my best to hide my flushed cheeks.
“You’re too sweet. Care to join me for dinner?”
“Can’t believe I forgot! It’s practically your signature dish,” John chuckled.
“You’re too kind. Care to join me for dinner?” I invited, gesturing him inside.
“Oh, no. I wouldn’t want to intrude. I’m sure you have plans. I just wanted to see your lovely face and drop off your gifts,” John replied modestly.
“Nonsense! I don’t have anything planned, and I’d love the company. Besides, I’m whipping up some apple pie,” I insisted.
“Apple pie? Well, why didn’t you say so sooner?” John quipped as he stepped in.
One of the many things I adored about John was his culinary prowess. It reminded me of my late husband, who was also an exceptional cook. That day, John and I became a culinary duo. He took charge of most of the cooking, and I was simply grateful for the companionship. As we sat down to dinner, John finally broached the topic of Angie.
“Vacation? And she didn’t mention anything to anyone? Just left out of the blue? What’s going on?” he inquired.
“So, is Angie planning to join us? I wouldn’t want her to feel ambushed or anything. I honestly didn’t plan on staying. But I’m glad I did,” John mentioned.
“Nonsense! You’re the grandfather of my grandchildren; that makes you family. And no, I don’t think Angie will be joining us today,” I replied, a hint of disappointment in my voice.
“I’m sorry to hear that. You shouldn’t be alone on your birthday,” John empathized.
“Well, thanks to you, my dear, I’m not,” I said, squeezing his hand. “Thank you, John.”
“Sure thing. If you don’t mind me asking, what kept her from coming? Or bringing the kids along? I thought they’d be here, they always enjoy their time with you,” John inquired.
“They were all meant to join, but Angie hasn’t been responsive to my calls. Honestly, I’m in the dark about what happened, but I’m hopeful she’ll get back to me,” I explained.
“I’m not sure what’s keeping her busy, but she could’ve at least dropped off the kids. I’ll reach out to her,” John insisted.
After John called Angie, she surprisingly picked up. Later, John revealed the reason why my daughter had missed my birthday.
“Apparently, Angie, her new partner, and the kids are away on vacation,” John disclosed, clearly displeased.
“Vacation? And she didn’t inform anyone? She just left like that? What could be her reasoning?” I questioned, feeling puzzled.
“Your guess is as good as mine, Patty. But how dare she take off with my kids without a word?” John expressed, frustration evident in his tone.
“This is truly disappointing. And who is this new person? I had no idea Angie was seeing someone,” I remarked, thoroughly bewildered.
“Angie mentioned it briefly, but a whole vacation? And they’ve been planning it for a month? Patty, I think Angie’s really crossed a line this time,” John exclaimed, his frustration evident.
“Yes, it’s quite disappointing,” I sighed, feeling the weight of the news.
The sudden revelation hit me hard, leaving me feeling unexpectedly hurt. At the very least, Angie could have informed me she wouldn’t be around.
Later, when I spoke to Angie, she assured me she didn’t mean to upset me and promised to visit with the kids soon. But despite her intentions, the damage was already done. As her mother, I’ll always love her, but the hurt runs deep.
John’s support was a comfort, but the pain caused by my daughter’s actions lingers. Trust feels shaken. In this situation, I’m unsure how to proceed. What steps should I take?”