“I don’t want the letter,” I replied slowly.
“And the blanket… please donate it to charity.”
“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” Dad replied.
She still tries to reach out sometimes. A voicemail here, a card there.
“You have to move on so I can know my grandchild,” she always says. “I’m your mother.
I have rights.”
But she doesn’t, not really.
She gave up those rights when she chose her selfish desires over her daughter’s happiness.
She gave them up when she tried to destroy my wedding out of spite, and every single time she chose herself over the people who loved her.
Some people don’t deserve another chance just because they share your blood.
Some people prove, over and over again, that they can’t be trusted with the precious things in your life.
