GRAND LARCENY

We were sitting on our foldable chairs. We watched a 60ish couple taking turns playing beach darts with their adoring grandson. We walked along the shore and saw another elderly couple sitting on the wet sand helping the tiny hands of two grandbaby toddlers build a miniature sea pond. Grandma and Grandpa looked up at us with pride. With moist eyes we forced grins and nods that said yes, they are so cute and you are blessed. You have earned the right to spend time with them.

My wife and I look at each other and know what the other is thinking. None of that for us anymore. Our daughter has cut off contact between us and our precious, seven-year-old granddaughter. Our offense? We affirmed our son Ricky’s true identity, not the false one the surgeons carved into him.

I told our story before here: I Cry on the Beach

In short, our son Ricky at 30 years old fully gelded himself after 15 years of under/un employment and loyal devotion to furtive online influences. He left us a voice mail in 2021 saying he no longer wanted any contact with us. His sister was complicit, behind our backs, in his successful application for mutilation services in Washington, DC.

Maybe when our granddaughter hits her tween years and gets curious about her absent grandparents who had bonded so closely with her from birth to age 6, she will wrangle a phone call to us. But not anytime soon. Perhaps never. The transgenderists have now deployed her as a weapon and are taking no prisoners.  No loss to the family, whether affirming or not, is too brutal for those monsters.

Almost everyone on this forum knows the transgenderists’ capacity for malice and infliction of mental torture. For example, these X responses from the trans intelligentsia:

Partly gleaned from Twitter channel of Gender_Apostate

Folks, these are the people talking online to YOUR CHILDREN RIGHT NOW.

The ringmasters want to destroy the nuclear family right to the bristles: The ancestral bond, the sibling bond, the avuncular bond - even the cousins. They are remaking families.

We did all we could to help our daughter and her husband get a good start in their marriage and have as much help as possible in raising their baby. We emptied our savings to pay for their wedding. My wife travelled twice from my overseas work station to be there as a live-in babysitter so daughter could attend law school. 

We fell in love with our granddaughter from the moment she was born and visited her whenever we could. We embraced every opportunity to spend time with this spunky, fickle-minded, delightful child. Our daughter and her husband did not have an open-door policy at their home.  Parents or no, you come when you are invited. Period. And don’t expect us to come to you.

We dreamed of the day when we would have some leeway with our granddaughter’s activities. She was becoming a hot house flower. We wanted to take her to the beach and marvel at her in her glory, ruling over her own patch of wet sand and water. Also horseback riding. Roller skating. Surfing. Hang gliding. Well, maybe not that last one…

Last Thanksgiving, after two and a half years of gradually phasing us out of her and her daughter’s life, our daughter joined our son in disowning us via this email:

WE DO NOT HAVE A RELATIONSHIP.

YOU HAVE NO RELATIONSHIP WITH MY DAUGHTER.

Another email followed.  It was four paragraphs of a projecting, insolent, hissy fit. The follow up phone call was even uglier. This raging, abusive woman is actually a 40-year-old mother? What on earth happened to her?

Then the wooden stake through our hearts: Our daughter posted a photo of our femmed-up son, sitting next to granddaughter on social media, tagged with #auntie #nontraditional. My God, she did it. She corrupted our granddaughter with the transgenderist lie and marketed the venality online. Vice signaling.

God forgive them, for they know not what they do.

The good news is we reached the bottom and things can only get better. We are rising above it. Other people have worse problems. We have abundant blessings: Our faith, our other two supportive children, robust health, a big vegetable garden, and enough money to travel a bit.

The healing process has been steady, but painful. I stopped the Featured Photo feeds in my iPhone. It was too tantalizing watching those old digitals of our granddaughter every day. We stored away those “Hail to the Grandparents” plaques and cards we had been given through the years. We cannot erase our granddaughter’s presence, but we had to lighten it for our own peace of mind.

We have to suck it up when our siblings, all with multiple grandchildren, proclaim their grandkids’ accomplishments and cute misdeeds in group emails. I hit Reply All with short answers like “Wow that’s wonderful!” Each time those emails come, I feel a little less resentful. A little less jealous. A little happier for their good fortune. It is a healthy way to thicken my skin.

As much as I try to cope, I cannot get hardened enough to completely stop the occasional sobs and tears. But this is no time to feel sorry for ourselves and completely lose our sense of humor. Got to do what we must, and one task is to re-write our will and beneficiary designations. It would be oppressive to saddle our son and daughter with toxic inheritances, no?

Speaking of toxic, it is helpful, if not comforting, to know that we are not alone. Dumping the “toxic” parents is a Current Thing, and it is not only parents of trans getting the axe. Any pretext will do.  Annoying habits? Show them the door. Dropping by without calling first? How dare they! Unwelcome advice? Off with their heads! Sons and daughters aged 18 – 60 are getting in on the joy of giving parents the heave-ho. And the small-minded brats lay it out on TikTok with posts like these:

“My mum says: ‘You can’t tell me I don’t get to see my grandchild’ Oh but I can!” Smiley face.

Parenting and grand parenting have become at-will employment.

Throw the bums out, they say. It’s easy. It’s fun.

Fortunately, there are comfort channels like PITT and blogs like this one. The hostess of this wonderful blog takes a constructive, upbeat approach to helping abandoned parents heal.

These hardships give rise to opportunities for self-improvement. I procrastinate less. I licked nail-biting after 45 years of that habit. I feel more empathy towards others down on their luck, such as the homeless panhandler or the long-time widowed cat-lady neighbor.

There is also hope. There are many ways God can intervene and heal this misery: The direct approach in which our son and daughter see the Guiding Light. Better yet, a massive exorcism of the entire transgenderist cult. Maybe the most realistic hope is that de-transitioning will gain serious traction and become the Current Thing. If this starts trending on that odious Instagram, perchance reality can reach our daughter’s heart and she will use her influence to bring our son home and allow our granddaughter back in our lives.

I will take it any way I can get it.

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