She was holding out her phone, asking my daughter to finish a message.
“Tell Mommy you want to stay another night.”
My daughter shook her head.
On the screen were six unfinished recordings. In each one, she tried to speak, then began to cry.
“Mom,” I said. “Put it down.”
My daughter reached for me.
In the car, she finally found the words.
“Grandma says she has nobody when I leave. If I have fun at home, does that mean I dont love her?”
I pulled into a parking space and turned toward her.
“You can love Grandma and still want to come home. Keeping her happy is not your job.”
The weekend visits stopped. I arranged help for the changes I had been seeing instead of waiting for them to disappear.
My mother eventually apologized without asking for a hug or another visit.
Weeks later, my daughter chose to invite her over for lunch.
When Grandma got up to leave, she said, “I had a lovely time. You go enjoy your afternoon.”
My daughter watched her drive away.
Then she went back to her unfinished sandwich.