I woke up at 4 a.m. to make pancakes for my kids, but what I found on my son’s doorstep broke my heart.

I woke up at 4 a.m. to make pancakes for my grandchildren, but what was waiting for me at my son’s doorstep broke my heart.

In a small town near Segovia, where the morning fog envelops the streets, my life at 67 revolves around a single purpose: my children. My name is Carmen Ruiz, and I’ve always lived for them. But that morning, which began with love and good intentions, turned into a pain that still grips my heart.

**Live for them**

My children—my son Javier and my daughter Lucía—are grown now. They have their own families, their obligations, but to me they’re still my children. At 67, I’m always busy: I cook, clean, shop—all to make their lives easier. Javier lives nearby with his wife, Raquel, and their two children, while Lucía moved to another city with her husband. I try to be there for my son, helping out as long as I can. My reason for being is to see them happy.

Yesterday, as usual, I arrived at Javier’s house at six-thirty. I got up at four to make fresh pancakes, my grandchildren Hugo and Sofía’s favorite dessert. I imagined their happy faces, how we would sit together and laugh. With a Tupperware full of pancakes, I headed to his house, excited for the reunion. But what was waiting for me at the door changed everything.

**The knock on the door**

I rang the bell, but no one answered. Strange, because Javier knew I was coming. I knocked again and, finally, knocked on the door. Silence. Suddenly, it opened, and Raquel, my daughter-in-law, appeared. Her face was cold, her eyes filled with irritation. “Carmen, here again? We didn’t ask you to come,” she blurted out, without even saying hello.

I froze. In my hands, the warm Tupperware of pancakes; in my chest, confusion. *”But it’s for the children, for the grandchildren…”*, I stammered, but Raquel cut me off: *”You’re in our way. We’ll manage on our own. Stop interfering in our lives!”*. She grabbed the Tupperware and slammed the door. I stood there, as if I’d been hit with a hammer, unable to believe what had just happened.

**The family betrayal**

I returned home with tears streaming down my face. What had I done wrong? For wanting to brighten their day? For dedicating my life to them? Not even Javier came out, or called, or offered any explanations. His silence hurt more than Raquel’s words. I remembered how I raised him, the sleepless nights by his side, everything I had sacrificed for his happiness. And now I was a hindrance?

Lucía, my daughter, always told me: “Mom, don’t insist, let them live.” But how could I not help? My grandchildren are my joy, my dream. I believed my affection was good for them. But Raquel’s words, like poison, poisoned everything. I felt scorned, rejected, an intruder in the family I had raised myself.

**Doubts and pain**

That moment bothered me all day. Maybe it’s over? Could Raquel be right? But why didn’t Javier tell me? His silence was like a stab wound. I tried to call him, but he didn’t answer. Only at dusk did I get a terse message: “Mom, sorry, we were busy. Don’t bother.” Not bother me? How could I not be bothered when someone tramples on your love?

At first, Raquel was grateful for my help. I took care of the children, cooked, and cleaned while she worked. And now that the children are grown, am I a nuisance? Or has Javier turned against me? My thoughts tangled, and my heart burned with pain. I didn’t sleep a wink all night, wondering: where did I go wrong?

**My decision**

This morning I decided I won’t return without being called. If my love isn’t enough for them, I won’t force myself. But it’s hard to accept. My grandchildren mean everything to me, and the thought of losing them kills me. I want to talk to Javier, but I’m afraid to hear the truth. What if he thinks like Raquel? What if I’m really bothering them?

At 67, I dreamed of family afternoons, of grandchildren’s laughter, of gratitude. Instead, I found a closed door and cold words. But I won’t give up. I’ll find the strength to keep going—for myself, for Lucía, for those who truly value my love. Maybe I’ll travel more to see my daughter or sign up for something new. I don’t know what will happen, but I know one thing: I deserve respect.

**A cry to the heart**

This story is my anger and my pain. I gave them everything, and now I feel like I’m not worth it. Maybe Raquel and Javier don’t understand how much they’ve hurt me. But I won’t let their indifference break me. My love for them will remain with me, even if they close all doors. At 67, I’ll still find my way.