I gave her my savings so she could study nursing. I sold my mother’s jewelry to pay for her books. When she met David, I invited them to live with me because they had nowhere to go.

“Your mom is an angel,” David used to tell me in those first few years, kissing my forehead after dinner. “Mom, you’re the best grandma Sarah could ever have,” Emily would say while I watched the baby so she could rest.

When did it all change? When did my affection become annoying? My conversations, interruptions? When did my presence in my own home become a burden?