My daughter is just too busy to see me

DEAR BEL MARRIED for 42 years, I lost my soul mate in November 2012 and found it hard to adjust. I have two children and two grandchildren I love so much.

My daughter and I have a very fractious relationship: OK for a few months and then a big argument. My husband always said she and I will never get on, so not to worry.

We are both to blame, both stubborn! I went to them for a lovely Christmas Day. Boxing Day we all went to my late husband’s relatives. Sunday, Monday and Tuesday I didn’t speak to anyone except my sisterin-law who visited on Tuesday with her family.

I was disappointed neither of my children checked on me. On Wednesday, I went for coffee with a friend but, unbeknown to me, my daughter had also been invited. I blanked her because I was so angry and disappointed. Not very grown-up, I know.

New Year’s Day she invited me for coffee and we had the most awful shouting match. I walked out; she phoned her brother in tears and he read me the riot act, too. He and I have always been able to talk.

I am very lonely and probably rely on them too much — I know I have to make a life for myself.

My fear is I won’t see my grandchildren. I retired before Christmas so will be on my own even more.

Both my children lead busy lives. I didn’t go to my daughter’s house in the evening for eight months last year; when I asked why, she said Saturdays are their family nights. Obviously I am not family! What do I do? MARY

THaT your late husband decided you and your daughter would never get on and nothing could be done is so sad. Such defeatist acceptance of an unhappy situation is depressing. all of us have the power to change our relationships (and indeed lives) if we can find the will.

Of course, within that little word, ‘if ’, lies the difference between heaven and hell. I understand how hard change is, which is why it is the underlying theme of my book (based on this column) Lifelines.

But if we stop believing we can exercise power over our own lives (no matter how poor or sad) then surely there’s no point to life?

Yours is the second missive in this postbag (see today’s lead letter) which makes me wonder with exasperation what the real problem is — and why such a fuss? Many people suffering from acute loneliness, neglected by their families to a degree you can’t imagine, will read your letter with disbelief. after a lovely Christmas Day with your daughter and her family (I’m guessing both grandchildren are hers), you had a sociable Boxing Day (Saturday) with extended family.

You then spent Sunday and Monday on your own (as people do) but were visited by your late husband’s sister and her family the following day.

OK, you felt annoyed and upset because neither your son nor daughter called you on those days (after all, you’d seen them just three days before), but did you really have to ignore your daughter at your friend’s? Couldn’t you have been delighted to see her?

This was extraordinary behaviour, made worse (to me) because you add, ‘not very grown up, I know’, with the air of somebody who has no intention of wanting to be self-critical, let alone change.

Many people will wonder how you can expect your daughter to s eek your company when you behave in this petulant, unpleasant, demanding manner. I suggest that if you want your relationship with those beloved grandchildren to continue, you had better change your ways.

Your daughter may well be as ‘stubborn’ as you; on the other hand, it was she who rang your son in tears because of your behaviour and asked him to intervene.

Mary, I feel so sad that you lost your beloved husband but you cannot expect your children and grandchildren to fill that hole in your life. The more you expect and the louder you moan, the more they will turn away.

Retired now, you need urgently to i nvestigate volunteering (Charity shop? Food bank? Dog walking? Serving tea in a care home?) in order to turn your somewhat crabby need for love and attention into a creative giving of love and attention to others. This would be truly ‘grown up’ — and you know it.

Believe me, you can become somebody who makes her family proud, who has much to tell them, and who is full of joy. But you have to give this great gift to yourself.