supposed to be a guest too.
I loved David and my grandchildren, seven-year-old Leo and five-year-old Mia, with the foolish devotion of someone who had spent decades believing motherhood meant making yourself useful.
After my husband died, usefulness filled much of the empty space.
David was my only child. When he married Rachel, I privately promised never to become the interfering mother-in-law people joked about.
So I gave.
I babysat.
I brought groceries when money was tight.
When David was between jobs years earlier, I started giving them $500 on
