My Daughter Cut Ties with Me After She Married a Rich Man – a Year Later, She Came Back Crying with a Baby

“Exactly,” I said. “I wasn’t perfect. I just loved you enough to keep showing up.”

I reached out and brushed Rosie’s tiny fingers.

“That’s what she needs from you,” I said.

“Not some supermom from a book. Just you, showing up, over and over.”

Gillian let out a sound that was half sob, half laugh.

“Will you help me?” she asked. “Please?

I don’t know what I’m doing. I thought I did. I don’t.”

I pulled her in and kissed the top of her head.

“Every single day,” I said.

“As long as I’m alive.”

That was three months ago.

Now, every Wednesday afternoon, my house isn’t quiet anymore.

There’s a knock at the door.

It’s lighter now. Not panicked. Just…there.

I open it and see Gillian with a diaper bag over one shoulder and Rosie on her hip, kicking her legs like she’s thrilled just to exist.

“Grandpa!” Gillian sings, grabbing Rosie’s hand and making it wave at me.

I pretend to be shocked every time.

Rosie squeals and reaches for my beard.

Gillian hands her over.

I sit in my old rocking chair and reach for the stack of children’s books I saved all these years.

Same stories I read to Gillian.

Same worn pages. Same dumb voices.

I read.

Rosie laughs this big baby laugh that takes up her whole body.

Sometimes she grabs my nose. Sometimes she falls asleep on my chest, drooling on my shirt.

Best feeling in the world.

Last week, Gillian came over holding a small paper bag.

I opened it.

Inside was a cardboard badge with a pin on the back.

She’d written GRANDPA on it in big letters and drawn little flowers around the edges.

“I want you to wear it,” she said. “At work. So everybody knows the scary-looking janitor is actually the best grandfather in the world.”

I snorted.

“Scary-looking?” I said.

“I thought I was handsome.”

She rolled her eyes. “Sure, Dad. Very handsome.

Now put it on.”

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