The sun was barely rising when I went over to my desk and scribbled a letter that would put an end to years of silent acceptance. I was no longer willing to be the peacemaker. It was time for action. I folded the paper neatly, placed it in an envelope, and addressed it to my parents. It was a simple letter, absent of drama, but it carried the weight of a thousand disappointments.
Dear Mom and Dad,
I hope you had a festive Christmas Eve, surrounded by family and laughter. I write to you with a heavy heart, as last night’s events have left an indelible mark on Abby and me. Your granddaughter, your own flesh and blood, was turned away from what should have been a warm family gathering. The message was clear: she was not welcome.
For years, I have gone out of my way to accommodate the needs and wants of our family, often at the expense of my own immediate household. I’ve made excuses when things went wrong, I’ve tried to smooth over misunderstandings, and I’ve bent over backward to hold this family together. That ends now.
Your actions last night were a choice. A choice not to welcome Abby, not to offer her a seat, not to acknowledge her presence. She was left to feel like an outsider in a home I have helped sustain. This is not how family behaves, and it is certainly not the kind of family environment I want for Abby.
