And there are people like you

The letter request:

I’d like a letter to my ex in-laws. I have three lovely daughters to my ex husband, divorced in 1998. My daughters don’t have contact with their father and the grandparents never wanted contact with the girls. I don’t understand why grandparents would want to miss out on their grandchildren and now great grandchildren. I have a terminal illness. I want to let the grandparents of my daughters know they have missed out on such joy with their granddaughters who are not hard to like. This is for me not my girls as they do not want contact.

The letter:

To my daughters’ grandparents,

Few things highlight how different humans can be as much as our hobbies: the way one person chooses to spend their precious spare time can be unfathomable to someone else.

For example, there are those who race modified lawn mowers. They spend their weekends hurtling over hilly tracks in a pimped-up ride-on. And then there are those who got whiplash in a dodgem car as a child and have been the indoor type ever since.

There are those who collect tea cosies. They go gaga for tiny little teapot sweaters knitted to resemble chickens or sheep or the Union Jack. And then there are coffee drinkers who get itchy just looking at wool.

There are hobby genealogists. They stay up late at night trawling birth, death and marriage records in search of their great-great grandmother’s cousin twice removed. As I write someone somewhere is staring at a photo of their father’s uncle Harold and wondering if maybe his ears look a little like their younger brother’s. These people care so much about their bloodline that they spend countless hours reaching far back into the past to learn about people they will never get to meet.

And there are people like you. People living in the same world as three incredible grandchildren that they choose not to get to know.

I can’t imagine I’ll ever understand your decision. I feel too deeply that your choice has been wrong. But who knows, maybe one day I’ll see things your way. And maybe one day you’ll see me zooming past on a modified lawn mower with a tea cosy on my head.

Yours truly,