Then came the hardest decision of all.
I asked my grandson to leave.
I told him that love didn’t mean allowing myself to be destroyed.
That I couldn’t rebuild my life while he remained under my roof.
When the door closed behind him, I cried for a long time.
But for the first time in months, I felt steady.
Slowly, I regained control.
I sold old jewelry.
Took on small sewing jobs.
Paid each installment with pride.
Daniel called several times afterward.
He asked for forgiveness.
He also asked for money.
I told him that forgiveness did not mean enabling him again.
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