I just sent you photos of my son playing soccer, and at Disney, and out shopping for his very first year of school. They were met with the same silence as the other photos I sent you—photos like his first time swimming, a video of his first steps, and his first time riding a bike on his own. On the rare occasion you do respond, it is your unenthusiastic “okay” or “wow.” I can’t imagine what it would be like to not know your own grandson, great-grandson, cousin, nephew, or great-nephew.
No matter your relationship to him, your lack of involvement in his life makes his dad and me very sad.
We’ve noticed you try to outbuy others with gifts for his birthday and Christmas. He doesn’t need fancy. He doesn’t need expensive. He needs you in his life.
He needs to be able to connect with you, get to know you, and have a place in your heart.
He deserves to feel like he is a priority in your life. He deserves to feel the same love and attention you give to others in our family. I am afraid this will cause a lot of pain and hurt in the future. I think the pain will become very real when he is given the choice between you and someone else. When he chooses the other person, you’ll look at us to persuade him otherwise—and we won’t. You’ll be angry and hurt, just as we have been.
I think we got over the angry part of that a while ago. I think I lost the ability to get mad over this somewhere between the 30th and 50th time I begged you to spend time with him. Or maybe it was when you made excuse after excuse of why you couldn’t watch him or spend the day with him. Or maybe it was after you kept dropping hints on how you wanted to take him to the water park, on vacation, watch him play soccer, or have him stay the night, and then when the opportunity presented itself, you had other, perhaps better, things to do.
We’ve read the comments and we’ve heard the snide remarks. When you finally share anything about him with your friends and other family members, they say, “oh, she finally let you have him?!” or “Woah, we haven’t heard anything about him in a while!” or “I wanted to ask how he was doing, but I didn’t think you see him often.”
But why not be honest for a change? Why not tell them about all of the times you weren’t there or said no?
Why not tell them about how you chose not to be around?
How about you come to terms with who and what your priorities are and just admit that our son isn’t a part of that. You’ve made it very clear to us. I wish I could say we are still angry about it, but I don’t think there is any anger left in us anymore. We just feel really sorry for you. We pity you.
You are the one who is missing out. You’re the one who doesn’t get to watch him grow up right before your eyes. You’re watching him grow through social media and the photos you never respond to. You don’t get the tight hugs of this loving 2-year-old. You don’t get to see the crazy dances he does or the twinkle in his eyes when you read him a bedtime story. You don’t get the heartwarming sensation of an uninfluenced “I love you.”
You don’t get to see that big smile that lights up the room. You won’t get to hear the giggle that is so contagious. You won’t get to know what his favorite car is or how his day at school went. You won’t be at his preschool graduation. You won’t be at his future soccer games or family vacations.
You are missing out on the kindest, most gentlehearted and forgiving boy there ever was, and we feel so bad for you.
I cannot believe it has taken me this long to write this. I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to come to terms that my child will never be good enough to have a place in your life. He will always be competing for your love and attention and time. As his mother, I am going to say THAT is not good enough for my son . . . YOU are not good enough for my son.
I am done thinking of ways to get you involved. I am done asking you to make time to come see him. I am done begging you to spend time with him. I won’t send more updates. I won’t ask you to be a part of his life. I am done wasting my time looking up how to make you more involved. Should you ever feel the want or need to be a part of his life, all you have to do is ask and make an effort. This isn’t an “I am keeping him from you” thing.
This is me putting my foot down. He deserves better than that. My son deserves better than what you’ve given him. So, my dear uninvolved family, do better or leave because we are done.