It was my granddaughter’s drawing that finally revealed the truth behind why my son had kept me out of their home for so long

The crayon drawing trembled in my hands as I stared at the face my granddaughter had captured so perfectly. After years of polite excuses and redirections, Mia’s artwork revealed the secret my son, Peter, and his wife, Betty, had been hiding in their basement.

I’ve had my share of highs and lows in life, but raising my son Peter was the best part. He grew into a fine man, married Betty, and they had a daughter, Mia, the sweetest granddaughter. But something changed three years ago. Peter stopped inviting me to their house. They still visited me, but their home became off-limits.

Then, last Tuesday, I decided to surprise them with an antique music box I thought Betty would like. When I arrived, the atmosphere was tense, and I sensed something was wrong. During dinner, Betty seemed desperate to keep me from the basement, and Peter was unusually stiff. I felt it in my bones—something was being hidden.

A few days later, Peter and Betty asked me to watch Mia. As we sat drawing together, Mia showed me a picture of their house with a solitary figure in the basement. “That’s Grandpa Jack,” Mia said. “He lives downstairs.” Jack, my ex-husband, the man who abandoned us twenty years ago. I was stunned.

When Peter and Betty went upstairs, I walked to the basement door, which was locked. After a tense pause, Jack opened the door. He apologized, and I couldn’t help but enter, though I was furious. Jack explained he lost everything, and after a long time, came to Peter to apologize. Peter had allowed him back, despite everything.

Jack had been living in the basement for three years. Peter and Betty had been hiding him to protect me from the pain. But to me, it felt like a betrayal.

When Peter and Betty confronted me, I demanded an explanation. Peter admitted he feared I’d make him choose between me and his father. Jack, now sick and nearing the end of his life, was desperate to make amends. But I couldn’t forget what he had done to us. It hurt too much.

“I’m not going to pretend this doesn’t hurt,” I told them, and walked out, unsure of what to do next.

Two days later, I still don’t know if I can forgive Jack for abandoning us or if I should accept him back into my life. What would you do if you were in my shoes?