Dear Prudence,
My daughters haven’t spoken to me in seven years. Their father was a mean man and a drunk, but he was a good father. That’s the only nice thing I can say about him—that he loved his daughters. I didn’t cry when he died. Later, I met “Elaine” and fell in love. It felt like coming home. My daughters were upset and didn’t understand. I was disappointed by their reaction. My eldest daughter had dated someone nonwhite in college and her father objected, but I’d stood up for her and supported their relationship. I hoped she’d do the same for me, but she called me a “dirty queer.” My youngest kept asking if this meant my marriage was a lie—even though she’d driven me to the hospital more than once when my husband beat me. I tried to be there for them, but when my eldest didn’t invite me to her engagement party, or even tell me it had taken place, I gave up.
Elaine and I got married after five years. I invited both my girls, but they never replied. I have a grandson I’ve never met. I have learned I can become accustomed to hurt better than to hope. My oldest daughter’s stepson is apparently gay, which has thrown her for a loop. She’s reached out and asked to “reconcile,” but her language is very precise and professional. It’s not an apology. I want one. Does this make me a bad mother? I love my girls, but I’m not so sure about the women they’ve become. I stayed with their father because he never hurt them, and I couldn’t afford to support them on my own. I was faithful his whole life. Elaine is my support and my soulmate. I love her. I am not going to apologize for that even for my girls. How do I move on from here?
—Waiting for an Apology