When it comes to family, deciding whether to cut ties or give another chance is tough.
Let it go!
My mother-in-law and father-in-law never liked me. So much so that they didn’t even come to our wedding because they couldn’t stand the idea of my husband marrying someone like me—literally calling me a "clumsy oaf." They hoped the romance would end quickly, but it didn’t. We’ve been happily together for seven years now. I haven’t had any contact with them during this time, but I see my husband come home grumpy after family visits because they still badmouth me. Now suddenly, they want to make peace because they found out I’m pregnant. They’ve longed for a grandchild and it seems it doesn’t matter anymore that it’s from me. They told my husband to forget the past and "be a proper family," but I just can’t. I endured their insults for seven years—on what grounds do they expect me to forget everything and welcome them with open arms? I told my husband I want peace, but I don’t think that’s possible when they’re around.
Henrik
Henrik is my younger brother, the family’s black sheep. As a teenager, he was a drug-addicted wanderer. My parents disowned him after about the twentieth time he sneaked into the apartment and stole everything movable. I rarely heard from him, only when he messaged me on Facebook, usually to ask for money—and then I stopped replying. One night he showed up at my place asking for one last chance.
I fed him and made a bed for him on the couch. The next morning, I woke up to find he had left, taking all the cash he could find. I swore that was it, but a few months later a friend called to say Henrik had overdosed and was in the hospital. I went to see him and told him this was his last chance with me. He whispered that he’d seen God "on the other side" and that everything would change. He moved in with me, but I kept my money under my pillow. Quitting was hell, and I wouldn’t have bet a dime on him, but he really changed. Four years have passed since, and Henrik is a new man. He works and goes to church several times a week. The family still doesn’t talk to him, but I’m glad I gave him another chance because I see he means it this time.
Mom
I never got along with my mom and never felt loved by her. After I moved into the dorm, I stopped going home. Maybe we crossed paths at family gatherings, but we had nothing to say to each other. Twenty years passed like this until she had a heart attack. She survived but faced death closely, and since then she’s been trying hard to come back into my life. I’m truly searching for forgiveness in my heart, but I can’t find it. We managed fine without each other before, and I think we’ll manage after too—I don’t need the drama.
Businesspeople
My mother died early, and my father never really cared about me. His world revolved around the business and my brother—he expected my brother to take over the company. As a daughter, I was never valued, and during an argument, he even told me not to expect to inherit anything from him. That hurt deeply because, although I didn’t feel much love for him, I never imagined his death or thought about what financial gain I might get. After that, I didn’t speak to him for years, only seeing him at my brother’s unexpected funeral. He was completely broken, sobbing, not even looking at me.
Now, however, the old man reached out and wants to reconnect. (That’s how he put it!) I told him I understand he’s old, sick, and lonely and needs someone to care for him, but let’s negotiate like businesspeople: what’s in it for me? He swallowed hard but didn’t throw a tantrum. He put two apartments in my name, bought me a car, changed his will, and now I visit him once a week. That’s how it goes between businesspeople…
Enlightenment
My aunt always acted like a wicked witch toward me, but after my mother died, she showed up one evening saying she wanted to talk. I couldn’t imagine what she wanted, but to my surprise, she poured her heart out: she admitted she’d always been jealous of my mother’s beauty and kindness, which explained her terrible behavior toward us all her life. We both cried and agreed to leave the past behind and look to the future. Since then, she’s been like a second mother to me and a wonderful honorary grandmother to my kids—we can always count on her. I believe everyone deserves a second chance.
