My name is Patty, and after living a long, wonderful 90 years, I can honestly say I’ve had a truly blessed life. Sure, there were hard times—like losing my dear husband a few years ago—but overall, it’s been joyful. Since he passed, it’s just been me and my daughter, Angie.
I had been looking forward to my 90th birthday for months. Such a big milestone! Angie had promised she and my sweet grandchildren would come visit and spend the day with me. The thought of seeing them made my heart feel so full. Every time I saw my grandkids, it took me back to the days when my husband and I were raising Angie. They reminded me so much of her when she was little—same bright eyes and cheeky smiles.
But they also carried the strong features of their father, John, Angie’s ex-husband. I always liked John. Honestly, I loved him like my own son. He was such a kind, thoughtful man. Even after the divorce, he still sent me Christmas cards every year, always writing sweet notes. It broke my heart when he and Angie split up. I had really hoped they could work things out… but life doesn’t always go the way we wish.
Finally, the big day arrived. I woke up buzzing with excitement. I wore my best dress, brushed my hair extra nice, and even put on my favorite pearl earrings. I kept glancing out the window, watching for any sign of Angie’s car pulling up.
But noon came, and still, nothing. I started to get a little worried.
“Maybe she’s just running late,” I told myself, trying to stay positive.
I called her once… twice… three times. No answer. By the fourth call, it went straight to voicemail.
“Hi, sweetie, it’s Mom,” I said in the message, trying to sound cheerful. “Just wondering when you’re coming by. Love you!”
I sat down at the kitchen table, staring at the birthday cake I had made that morning—a beautiful vanilla cake with pink icing. I had even put candles on it, thinking the kids would enjoy helping me blow them out.
The afternoon dragged on, and my heart grew heavier with every hour that passed. I tried to keep busy, but deep down, I knew—I was going to spend my birthday alone. Again.
Just as I was about to put the cake away, the doorbell rang.
My heart leapt! Maybe Angie had finally arrived!
I hurried to the door as fast as my old knees could carry me. But when I looked through the glass, my heart sank. It wasn’t Angie standing there. It was a tall figure—a man.
I opened the door, and there he was—John! Standing there with the biggest smile, holding a huge bouquet of flowers and a neatly wrapped present.
“Happy Birthday, Ma!” he beamed.
“John?! Oh, my goodness! You didn’t have to do all this!” I said, shocked but so happy to see him.
He laughed warmly. “Just a little something to celebrate the most wonderful lady I know.”
I caught a glimpse of a shiny box poking out of his bag. “Wait a minute… is that my favorite chocolate in there?” I asked, half-teasing.
“How could I ever forget?” he chuckled. “You basically live on those things!”
I laughed, feeling a little bashful. “You’re too sweet. Care to join me for dinner?” I asked, already opening the door wider to let him in.
John hesitated. “Oh, no, I don’t want to intrude. I figured you had plans with Angie and the kids. I just wanted to stop by, drop these off, and see your beautiful smile.”
“Nonsense!” I insisted, waving him inside. “I don’t have any plans anymore, and I could really use the company. Plus, I’m making my special apple pie!”
John raised an eyebrow playfully. “Apple pie? Now why didn’t you lead with that?”
We both laughed as he stepped inside, filling my lonely house with a warmth I hadn’t felt all day.
John was such a good cook, just like my late husband. In no time, we were cooking up a feast together—laughing, telling old stories, and sharing memories. John insisted on doing most of the work, saying, “You just sit there and relax, birthday girl!”
As we finally sat down to eat, John looked around the empty house and asked gently, “So… are Angie and the kids going to be joining us later? I’d hate for her to think I was barging in.”
I sighed, feeling a stab of sadness. “You’re family, John. And no, I don’t think they’re coming today,” I said, my voice dropping a little.
John frowned. “I’m really sorry to hear that. You shouldn’t be alone on your birthday.”
I reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “Thanks to you, son, I’m not.”
But John looked puzzled. “Mind if I ask… why didn’t they come? I mean, the kids adore you. I can’t imagine them missing this.”
“I wish I knew,” I said softly. “They were all supposed to be here. I’ve been calling, but Angie’s not answering.”
John shook his head, his face tightening with concern. “That’s not right. The least she could’ve done is call. I’m gonna give her a ring.”
I watched as John pulled out his phone and dialed. To my shock, she answered his call on the first ring. John excused himself and stepped outside for a minute to talk privately.
When he returned, his face was hard to read. He sat down slowly, placed his phone on the table, and said, “Patty… there’s something you should know.”
I braced myself.
“Angie and the kids… they’re on vacation,” he said carefully. “She’s with her new boyfriend. They all left about three days ago.”
I stared at him, stunned. “Vacation? And she didn’t tell anyone? She just left?”
John nodded grimly. “Apparently, they planned it about a month ago. She didn’t think to tell you. Or me, for that matter.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “Oh no… that’s very disappointing. And who is this boyfriend? I didn’t even know she was seeing someone!”
John sighed. “She mentioned him briefly once, but this? A whole vacation without telling anyone? It’s not right. Excuse me, Patty, but I think your daughter’s taken things a little too far this time.”
I felt a deep, aching sadness settle in my chest. “Yes,” I whispered. “This hurts more than I can say.”
The news hit me like a punch to the gut. I could have understood if she had been busy… but to leave town without a word, on my 90th birthday? It felt like a betrayal.
Later that evening, I managed to get hold of Angie myself. She sounded guilty, apologizing over and over.
“I’m so sorry, Mom,” she said. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I promise I’ll come visit with the kids as soon as we get back.”
I told her I loved her—because she’s my daughter, and I always will—but I couldn’t hide the pain in my voice.
That night, after John left and the house grew quiet again, I sat by the window, thinking about everything. I was grateful John had come. His visit had softened the sting of Angie’s absence. He showed me that real family isn’t just blood—it’s the people who show up for you when you need them most.
Still, the hurt was deep.
I don’t know if I can ever trust Angie the same way again.
And that, I think, is the saddest part of all.
