I cooked his meals, held him through nightmares, and watched his tiny hands grow steady and strong. I thought our little life together would go on forever. But when he was twelve, everything shattered.
His mother reappeared one morning, dressed in expensive clothes, standing at my door with a lawyer. She didn’t even look at him before she said the words that nearly knocked the breath out of my chest: “Thanks for your services. I’ll take it from here.”
Just like that — she took him.
And legally, I had no right to stop her. I watched them drive away, my boy’s face pressed against the car window, crying for me. Then they vanished.
No calls, no letters, no updates. Just silence. For years, I lived with an ache that never left me.
I kept his room exactly the same. I prayed he would come back, even if only for a moment. Then, on his eighteenth birthday, there was a knock.
When I opened the door, I couldn’t breathe. There he was — taller, older, broader in the shoulders — but with the same gentle eyes. He stepped inside and immediately broke down crying.
I thought he simply missed me and came for a short visit. But then he hugged me tightly and whispered, “You will always be my favorite person in the world — the one I love and respect.”
Before I could reply, he placed a set of keys in my hand. He explained that now he was legally an adult and could choose where to live — and he wanted to live with me.
He had rented a beautiful, elevator-equipped house because he remembered how much I struggled with the stairs in my apartment. I asked him how he managed it. He told me he had saved every allowance his mother ever gave him, planning for this moment — the day he would finally come home.
Now we have this precious year before he leaves for college. We cook together, watch old cartoons, share long conversations — making up for every stolen moment. I look at him now, this kind, thoughtful young man, and I know one thing for certain: No time, no distance, and no force in the world can break the bond between a grandmother and her grandson.
Note: This story is a work of fiction inspired by real events. Names, characters, and details have been altered. Any resemblance is coincidental.
