31March
Dear Diary,
The family group chat buzzed again today. All invited except you, my sister Lucy wrote, followed by an emoji that could only be read as a jab. It stung. Mum called for the third time that afternoon, her voice a familiar mix of pleading and accusation.
How could you not call, Martin? Lucy was here yesterday with a tin of shortbread. You havent spoken in a week! she complained.
I called two days ago, Mum! Ill bring the shortbread next time, just not every single day, I replied, trying to keep my temper down.
Thats the point, love. Not every day. Lucy does it every week. Thats what a proper daughter does.
I closed my eyes and counted to ten. This backandforth had become routine. Lucy has always been Mums golden child, ever since we were kids.
Darling, I have an early shift tomorrow. Can we talk later? I asked.
Of course, of course, she replied. Youre always too busy. Lucy still finds the time.
I hung up without a proper goodbye, exhausted by the endless comparisons.
A few minutes later my phone vibrated. A long message from Lucy appeared in the chat:
Hello, everyone! As you know, Mums 60th birthday is coming up. Im organising a dinner at The Rosewood in Brighton. All relatives are welcome. Ive booked a table for twenty. Please confirm your attendance by Friday.
She then listed a parade of aunts, uncles, cousins and even a secondcousin from Manchester wed met once at a family wedding. My name was missing.
I read the message again, hoping Id misscanned it. No, I wasnt listed.
Lucy, am I invited? I typed.
The reply was instantaneous: All are invited except you. Mum decided that.
The words blurred on the screen. I read them over and over, wondering if it was a cruel joke. But the chat kept filling with confirmations. Aunt Zoe said she would come, cousin Sean wrote hed arrive with his wife, and no one asked why I was absent.
I tried calling Mum. One ring, two, three no answer.
I dialled Lucy.
Hello? her voice was flat, almost indifferent.
Lucy, whats this about? Why am I not on the guest list?
I told you. Mum doesnt want you there.
Why?
She paused.
She thinks youre a bad daughter, that you dont care about her.
That isnt true! I call, I visit when I can, I help!
It isnt enough, Lucy said, a faint smile in her tone. Mum said she doesnt want you at her party, and Im backing her up.
Youre backing her up? Im your sister!
And thats why I know the truth. Youre selfish, only thinking of yourself.
What are you talking about?
The fact that you left town when Mum needed you. You married David, even though Mum objected. You only had one child, even though she wanted grandchildren.
I could hardly believe what I was hearing.
Lucy, seriously? I moved away for university, for a good job! Thats not a crime.
You could have studied here. There are good universities in Leeds.
My field was only offered there, and David is a decent man. Mum just doesnt like it.
You never listened to Mum. You always did the opposite.
My life, Mums life, I snapped.
Your life is yours, but Mums too. If she doesnt want you at her birthday, thats that.
Lucy hung up. I stood in my onebed flat, stunned that I had truly been excluded from my own mothers celebration because I was deemed a bad daughter.
I sank onto the sofa, hands covering my face. Tears threatened, but I swallowed them. I had to understand what was happening.
I dialled Mum again. This time she answered.
Martin, why are you calling? Lucy is handling everything, dont worry.
Mum, why wasnt I invited?
There was a long pause, then a sigh.
Love, you know why. You hardly ever call, hardly ever visit. It hurts me.
But I live three hundred miles away! I cant be there every weekend.
Lucy lives right here. Shes a halfhour drive away.
Exactly. Shes nearby, Im not. I didnt choose to leave.
I chose a career, a family. Thats why I feel abandoned.
Her words hit like a cold wind. I felt powerless.
Its my mothers birthday, Mum. How can I not be there?
You should have thought about this earlier. Be a better daughter.
I try, Mum!
Trying isnt enough. Lucy tries. Ive decided I want to spend my day with those who love and value me.
I love you!
Then show it, not just in words. Im sorry, Martin. My mind is made up.
The line went dead. I sat there, phone in hand, numb.
David came home an hour later, saw the red in my eyes, and asked, Whats wrong, love?
I told him everything. He frowned, shook his head.
This is absurd! How can she not invite her own daughter?
I guess she can.
What about you? How could you let this happen?
Lucy has always been Mums sidekick. Ive always felt like the odd one out.
David sat beside me. Maybe its just a misunderstanding?
No, Davie. Its years of buildup.
I paced the room. Ive always felt guilty for leaving, for marrying you against Mums wishes, for having only our son Alex instead of a brood.
You had every right to choose, David said.
Yes, but every choice seemed to cost me something.
He put his arm around me. Maybe its for the best you dont go. Youll avoid the drama, the whispering behind your back.
I thought about it. Could I really avoid the hurt by not going?
The next day I phoned Aunt Zoe, who has always been kind to me.
Hello, Aunt Zoe.
Martin, darling! How are you?
Did you see the chat about Mums birthday?
Yes, Im ordering a gift.
Did you notice Im not on the list?
She hesitated. I did, love. It surprised me.
Did anyone say anything?
She told me Mum feels neglected because youre far away.
I live far! I cant pop in every week!
I get that, but Lucy is right next door, and shes always there for Mum driving her to appointments, bringing groceries.
So Im a bad daughter just because I live elsewhere?
No one said youre a bad daughter. Mum just wants company.
Shes lonely, shes sixty, its hard for her.
I ring, I send money, but its not the same as being there.
Its not about money, dear. She wants us close.
I cant move back!
She sighed. No one asks you to. Just try to understand Mums feelings. Shes aging, scared.
Im not scared, Im angry!
She urged me to speak calmly with Mum, but Mum never seemed to listen.
Later that evening a cousin, Katie, messaged me.
Martin, I saw you werent on the guest list. Is that true?
Yes. Mum doesnt want me there.
Thats madness! Shes your mother!
Its what she thinks.
Should I talk to Aunt Zoe? Maybe she can change Mums mind?
Ill try, if I can.
A day later Katie called.
I spoke to Mum.
And?
Shes firm. She says shes tired of my indifference. She thinks I abandoned her, and Lucy backs her up.
Right.
Maybe you should call more often? Visit more?
Anger flared. I call three times a week, I visit once a month thats all I can manage.
Is that not enough?
How much more? Every day? Move in?
Its not about quantity, love. She feels left out.
I feel guilty for no reason. Enough.
I hung up, hands trembling. Everyone kept repeating the same line: I call too little, I visit too little, I care too little.
My son Alex, sixteen, entered the room, eyes wide.
Mum, why are you sad?
Just grownup problems, love.
What kind?
Im not invited to my mums birthday.
Alexs eyes widened.
Why not?
She thinks Im a bad daughter.
Thats nonsense! You call, you visit, you send money!
It isnt enough.
He sat beside me. Maybe I should just skip it? If theyre all like that, why bother?
Its my mother, Alex.
And if she doesnt respect me, does it matter?
I looked at him. It seemed simple when he put it that way. But family isnt that simple.
A week passed, the birthday loomed. Lucy posted a reminder in the chat:
Just a week left. Anyone who hasnt confirmed, please do so. Need a final headcount.
Again, no mention of me. I decided to make one last attempt. I drove to my hometown unannounced, hoping to catch Mum off guard.
Mum opened the door, surprised.
Martin? What are you doing here?
Can I come in?
She let me in reluctantly. The house looked the same: the old sofa, the faded rug, framed photos on the mantel. A large picture of Lucy with her children now dominated the wall.
Sit down, Mum said, pointing to the sofa. Do you want tea?
Yes, please.
We sat, the clink of teacups filling the silence.
Mum, Im here to talk about the birthday.
She set her cup down. Ive already decided, Martin.
Its unfair! Im your daughter!
You left me, Martin.
I didnt abandon you! I went away to study, to work, to live my life!
Thats exactly it your own life. I wish youd have stayed, married a local lad, had more children, been nearer.
David is a good man!
He took you away from me.
It didnt. We chose to live where his job was.
Mum waved her hand. Its all the same. Youre far, its hard for me.
Lucy is nearby.
Yes, because shes the good daughter. She looks after me.
I look after you too, in my own way!
Thats not enough.
I stood, frustration boiling.
You know what, Mum? No matter what I do, it will never be enough because Im not Lucy. I chose my own path, and I have a right to it.
Thats the wrong path.
My path! I have the right to it!
Mum also rose.
Fine. Live your life. Ill spend my birthday with those who value me.
Alright, I said, grabbing my bag. I wont impose any more.
I left without looking back, tears streaming, but I didnt wipe them away. The car sat idle for a long moment; inside was a hollow that had been there for years. Perhaps it was time to let go.
David met me at the curb, worry in his eyes.
How did it go?
Nothing changed.
Maybe its for the best? You wont have to carry that guilt.
Perhaps.
I collapsed onto the couch at home, closed my eyes. Guilt had haunted me since the day I packed my suitcase for university. Mum had wept then, accused me of betrayal. Lucy had glared, and I had fled with my suitcase, promising Id return someday.
The years had piled up.
The day of the birthday arrived. I woke heavyhearted. Somewhere in Brighton, relatives were setting tables, pouring wine, laughing, while I stayed home, uninvited, feeling like an extra.
David suggested a night out, but I declined. I just wanted to lie still.
By late evening the family chat filled with photos: Mum at the head of the table, smiling through strained eyes, Lucy hugging her shoulder, relatives raising their glasses. I scrolled, feeling a piece of me tear inside.
I turned the phone off and went to bed.
The next morning Aunt Zoe called.
Martin, love, how are you?
Fine, Aunt Zoe.
I was at the party yesterday. Mum was smiling, but later she broke down, saying she missed you.
I sat up.
Why didnt she say that before?
She told me she hoped youd turn up anyway, that it was a test of love. She regrets how she handled it.
Im tired of these games.
I understand. Shes lonely and doesnt know how to show it.
Thanks, Zoe. Ill think about it.
A week later Mum phoned unexpectedly.
Martin, could I stay with you for a few days? I havent seen Alex in ages.
I was taken aback.
Are you sure?
Im an adult now, I can decide.
She sounded more confident than ever.
Come then, Mum.
When she arrived, we met at the station, an awkward hug, then settled in the kitchen.
We talked about the weather, the news, the garden. After dinner, when the house was quiet, Mum took my hand.
Im sorry about the birthday, she began. I tried to manipulate you, hoping youd prove your love by coming anyway. I pushed you away because I was scared youd forget me.
I listened, silent.
I realise now you have a right to your own life. I cant demand you live the way I want.
Thank you, Mum.
Youll always be my daughter, but I cant expect you to be here every day.
Exactly. I can call, I can visit when possible, but not every weekend.
She nodded.
What about Lucy? I asked.
Shes hurt, too. She thinks I chose you over her.
Family isnt a zerosum game.
Mum smiled weakly. I love you both, just in different ways.
We held each others hands a moment longer, feeling some of the old wounds soften.
Mum stayed three days, helped with the garden, played with Alex, chatted with David. When she left, she gave me a tight hug.
Thank you for not turning away, she whispered.
You never left, Mum. You just set boundaries.
She nodded, and her eyes glistened.
At the train station, I watched her carriage disappear, a sense of closure settling in.
Back home, David asked, How did it go?
It was honest. We finally spoke the truth.
And now?
Well try to build a new kind of relationship honest, without games.
He smiled, pulling me close.
Im proud of you, love. You finally stood up for yourself.
It feels like a weight lifted after years.
I settled onto the sofa, opened a book, and felt life moving forward. My work, my family, my own happiness all realigned.
A few months later, Aunt Zoe called again.
Martin, Mum seems different now. Shes calmer, less complaining. She even told Lucy to stop blaming you.
Thats a relief.
Do you think youll call her more often?
Ill call when I can. Not because I have to, but because I want to.
Good. Thats what matters.
Life continues, with its bumps and joys. Ive learned that love isnt ownership, and that setting boundaries isnt selfishits essential. I may never be the perfect daughter Mum imagined, but I can be a daughter who respects herself. Thats the lesson Ill carry forward.
