“Grandma, I really shouldn’t tell you what I saw at home, according to my mother.”😱
I was given overnight custody of my five-year-old granddaughter by my daughter-in-law. “Grandma, mommy told me not to tell you what I saw at home. 😱” Lily stated to me the following morning in a frightened voice.
My daughter-in-law, Jenna, had left Lily with me that evening, claiming to have to work overnight. An explanation that seemed similar, yet there was an odd apprehension in the air this time. The uneasy feeling that creeps in like a chilly wind beneath a locked door without anyone noticing.
Hesitantly, she stood at the threshold, her fingers white with stress as she gripped the bag. She looked around the street, avoiding my gaze, as though she was waiting for something or someone.
With a quivering voice, she repeated, “Is it okay with you?” I smiled in response, but I felt uneasy when I saw the fear in her eyes.
With her clothes disheveled and her eyes full of worry, Lily nestled against her mother, holding her shabby plush bear, Milo. She ran to me for safety. My heart became constricted. How long had it been since I last witnessed her happiness blossom and her naive laughter reverberate throughout the house?
Before she left, Jenna whispered, “Sleep well, my darling,” and bent down to kiss Lily. I will return tomorrow. For an instant, she was in my line of sight. That appears to be a silent cries for assistance.
I grasped Lily’s hand as she disappeared into the night. I prepared some soup for her inside, but she shook her head.
“Gramma, I’m not hungry.” Her gaze was focused on an unseen agony.
“My treasure, why are you worried?” Gently, I inquired.
“Grandma, mommy said I shouldn’t tell you what I saw at home,” she remarked in a terrified whisper after lowering her head. 😱
What she said startled me, 😱😱 😱.
I tried to calm her concerns by giving her a hug. However, Lily didn’t seem to be able to get rid of the secret that was bothering her.
“I don’t want to keep this to myself, Grandma.” Her voice was frail as she said.
My heart became even more constricted. This young girl was bearing a load that was much too hefty for her frail shoulders. Even though I was already afraid of what she could say, I urged her to speak.
You know you can tell me anything, Lily, so tell me. I’m available to you.
“Mommy told me not to tell you what I saw, but… she cried all night,” she said in a barely audible murmur as she raised her eyes, her pupils clouded with anguish. She felt afraid. Then she was putting papers away. Medical records: she is ill.
I felt a chill go through me. The secret my granddaughter had shared was much too serious for her. My own daughter, Jenna, had been lying to me about her illness.
I embraced Lily and squeezed her closer. Her words struck me in the chest like a piece of glass. My priorities were now quite clear: to safeguard this young girl, to learn more about Jenna’s situation, and, above all, to figure out how I could support her. I was determined to find the truth, even though something was eluding me.
