З життя
Після зустрічі з батьком мій син сказав, що більше мене не любить
Після зустрічі з батьком мій син оголосив, що більше не кохає мене
Коли два роки тому ми з чоловіком розлучилися, мені здавалося, що ми розійшлися по-людськи. Без скандалів, без криків. Ми просто перестали бути щасливими разом. Я не забороняла йому бачити сина, навпаки — завжди підкреслювала, що дитині потрібен тато. Хотів навідуватись — будь ласка. Хотів забирати до себе — на здоров’я, я лише за, аби синові було добре.
Нашому Данилкові зараз сім. Нещодавно закінчилися осінні канікули, і колишній чоловік наполіг, щоб син провів їх у нього. Я не заперечувала. Навіть зраділа, подумала: нехай побачаться, проведуть час разом — це ж так важливо.
Але вже через кілька дній я почала помічати дивні речі. Я дзвонила Данилкові, але він не підходив до телефону. Замість нього трубку брали то колишній чоловік, то його мати, моя колишня свекруха, і щоразу мені відповідали одне й те саме: «Данилко на прогулянці», «він грається», «не може підійти».
Мене це насторожило. Адже я — його мати. Я маю право почути свого сина, дізнатися, як у нього справи. Чому вони приховують від мене його голос, його настрій? Що там коїться?
Коли канікули завершилися, колишній привіз сина додому. Я відчинила двері й одразу відчула — щось не так. Він був інший. Незнайомо мовчазний, погляд порожній, губи щільно стиснуті. І це не втома. Це — образа.
Я присіла поруч, поклала руку йому на плече.
— Данилку, серденько, як ти? Усе гаразд? Я сумувала… — хотіла пригорнути його.
Але він різко відсторонився й, не підіймаючи очей, промовив:
— Я тебе більше не люблю.
Ви коли-небудь чули, як відривається шматок серця? У ту мить я почула. Я відчула це. Він сказав це спокійно, але в цих чотирьох словах було стільки холодності, ніби говорив зовсім чужий чоловік.
У мене перехопило подих. Я не знала, що відповісти. Лише через кілька годин, уже вночі, я нарешті наважилася обережно заговорити. І тоді він розкрився.
Сказав, що у тата з бабусею чув багато поганого про мене. Що я, мовляв, зла, не даю жити, заважаю їм бути разом, спеціально роблю їм боляче, що це «я винна, що тато страждає». Вони буквально вмивали дитині мізки.
Я слухала це — і в мене тремтіли руки. Як можна так чинити з семирічною дитиною? З власним сином? З онуком? Що я їм зробила? Адже я ніколи не наговорила проти них, ніколи не говорила Данилкові поганого про батька. Я берегла його від нашої дорослої болі.
А вони? Вони вкрали у нього віру в матір.
З того часу я більше не дозволяю синові їздити до батька. Так, я розумію, це звучить різко, але я маю захистити свою дитину. Я не дозволю більше нікому травмувати його душу.
Я — його мати. І я не віддам сина тим, хто так легковажно сіє в ньому ненависть. Нехай спочатку навчаться бути людьми. Тоді, можливо, я подумаю, чи давати їм другий шанс.
Життя вчить нас важливому: іноді доводиться оберігати своїх близьких навіть від тих, хто повинен їх любити.
After Turning Seventy, She Was Forgotten—Not Even Her Son or Daughter Remembered Her Birthday, But When Her Son Betrayed Her and Sold Her Home, an Unexpected Reunion with Her Estranged Daughter Changed Everything
After turning seventy, she found herself unwanted by anyone not even her own son or daughter remembered her birthday. Margaret...
I Will Always Be With You, Mum: A Heartfelt Story You Can Believe Grandma Valerie couldn’t wait for evening to come. Her neighbour Natalie, a single woman approaching fifty, had just confided something so astonishing that Valerie’s head was spinning. To prove her point, Natalie had even invited her round later to show her something remarkable. The story began quite simply. That morning, Natalie had dropped by as she was on her way to the shop: “Is there anything you need, Valerie? I’m popping to the corner shop to pick up bits for a pie and a few other things.” Valerie smiled. “You’ve always been so good and caring, Natalie. I remember you as a little girl. It’s a shame things haven’t worked out for you—but you never seem sad or complain, not like some.” Natalie laughed. “What’s there to complain about? I do have a man I love, it’s just we can’t be together for now. Would you like to hear the reason? I’ve never told anyone else, but I want to tell you. Well, partly because you probably wouldn’t be believed if you repeated it!” She grinned. “Just let me know if you need anything from the shop. I’ll pop in on my way back, and over a cup of tea, I’ll tell you all about my life. Maybe then you’ll be happy for me and stop worrying.” Valerie didn’t really need anything, but asked Natalie to fetch a loaf of bread and some sweets for tea, her curiosity well and truly piqued. Later, as they sat together over tea and cake, Natalie began: “Valerie, you remember that thing that happened to me twenty years ago? I was nearly thirty. Met a bloke—nice enough, so I thought I’d marry him even if I didn’t love him. At least I’d have a family. He moved in and I got pregnant. When the baby came, a little girl, she lived just two days and passed away. I thought I’d go mad with grief. My husband and I split up soon after. A couple of months later, once I’d stopped crying, something happened. It’s hard to explain, Valerie. I’d got everything ready for my daughter—the cot, bedding, toys, the lot. They say it’s bad luck to buy these things early, but I didn’t believe that. Then one night I was woken by the sound of a baby crying. I thought I was imagining it, but the crying came again. I went to the cot—and there she was. My little girl. I picked her up, my heart nearly bursting with happiness. She looked up at me and then drifted peacefully to sleep. And from then on, almost every night, she would come to me. I even bought formula and a bottle, but she hardly ever fed—just smiled, closed her eyes and slept in my arms. Is that even possible?” Valerie leaned forward, utterly enthralled. “I know it sounds mad, but it’s true,” Natalie insisted. “It just went on—we got used to those nightly visits. I knew my little girl was living in another world, with her own mum and dad, but she never forgot me. She would visit, and one night she said to me: ‘I will always be with you, Mum. We are bound by an invisible thread, and nothing can ever break it.’ Sometimes I wonder if it’s a dream, but she even brings me gifts from her world. They don’t last long here though—they fade away like snow in spring.” That evening, Valerie finally visited Natalie’s flat. No one else was home—just the two of them. Suddenly, a gentle light shimmered in the air and a sweet young woman appeared: “Hello, Mummy! I’ve had such a good day, I want to share it with you. And here’s a present for you.” She placed a small bouquet on the table. Turning to see Valerie, she smiled again. “Oh, hello! Mum said you wanted to meet me. I’m Marianne.” After chatting a while, Marianne faded away like morning mist. Valerie sat silent, absolutely stunned. “Well, I never… that really happens!” she whispered. “Your daughter’s a beauty, Natalie, just like you. I’m so happy for you. You really are a lucky woman—maybe luckier than anyone I know. I would never have believed it if I hadn’t seen it myself. Thank you for opening my eyes. The world is so much bigger than I thought; life goes on everywhere. I’m not afraid anymore.” The flowers on the table became paler and then vanished altogether. But Natalie smiled, full of hope. Tomorrow would be a wonderful new day. She was going to meet Arkady, the man she loved and who loved her back—she just knew it. And someday soon, she’d introduce him to the two people she loved most in the world: Marianne and Arkady.
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