What do you do when you don’t hear from your own child? A child you nurtured, loved, and raised, who now doesn’t call to check in or even ask how her family is doing. Especially when we came so close to losing everything in a single night because of that terrible car accident. You would think something so life-altering would be a wake-up call—a reminder to cherish the people you love while you still have them. But here we are, and the holidays have come and gone. It’s now January 4th—well, technically past midnight as I write this—and we’ve heard nothing. Not a call, not a text. Am I angry? Oh, absolutely, I am. But beneath that anger is a deep, painful sadness that I can’t seem to shake.

It feels like she’s pushed us aside, like we’re no longer important in her life. She doesn’t reach out, doesn’t seem to want to include us in her world anymore. Instead, she’s chosen to surround herself with her white friends, calling them her family, as if we don’t matter. It cuts deep to think she might prefer them over her own blood, her own roots.

It makes me feel even guiltier when I reflect on the past—on the times I was mean or impatient with her and her sister before I was diagnosed with Rheumatoid Arthritis. I didn’t always know how to manage my emotions, especially when I was in pain and didn’t understand what was happening to my body. I know I made mistakes. I’ve tried to apologize in my own way, but it feels like those moments have built an invisible wall between us.

She doesn’t talk to me like a daughter talks to her mom. There’s a distance I can’t bridge, a silence that I don’t understand. She doesn’t confide in me, doesn’t share her thoughts or her life with me. I don’t know why. Is she ashamed of us? Of our family? Of our skin color? These thoughts haunt me, and I can’t help but wonder if I failed her somehow.

After everything we’ve been through together—all the love, all the struggles—it feels unbearable to think that I’ve been discarded, like I’m no longer needed or wanted in her life. I miss her so much. I miss her smile, her laughter, the way her presence could light up a room. I miss the days when the four of us would go on our little adventures in our small town, creating memories that I thought would bind us together forever.

I know she’s in college now, and she’s building a life for herself. I want her to grow, to succeed, to chase her dreams. But is it too much to ask for a call now and then? A text? Something to show that she still thinks of us, that she still loves us?

My heart aches for my baby girl. I wish she could understand how much I miss her and how deeply I crave the connection we once had. I don’t know how to fix this, how to reach her, how to bridge this painful gap. All I know is that I love her more than words can ever express, and I hope one day she’ll see that and come back to us.