Derek called again, bewildered that I was leaving for two months. I explained that whenever I’d mentioned traveling before, someone had needed me to watch a dog, help with a project, or remain available for another family responsibility.

“I want to keep being your children’s grandmother, Derek. I just don’t want to be permanently on call.”

For the first time, he didn’t argue.

But three days before my departure, Derek unexpectedly appeared at my front door, determined to have one final conversation…

 

PART 3: Choosing Myself After a Lifetime of Sacrifice

Derek arrived while I was packing for Portugal, looking uncomfortable as he watched me fold clothes into my suitcase. I made him coffee, and after several minutes of discussing my travel arrangements, he finally mentioned Thanksgiving.

“Mom, I know Cassie shouldn’t have said those things, but I still think this is a pretty big reaction.”

I put down the sweater I was folding and looked directly at him.

“Do you honestly believe I booked eight weeks in Portugal just to get even with your wife?”

He admitted that he didn’t know what to think, so I explained what I’d struggled to say for years. I’d organized my retirement around his household because I loved him, but somewhere along the way, he and Cassandra had started treating my time as their property.

“I enjoy helping you, Derek. What I don’t enjoy is being taken for granted.”

He lowered his gaze and admitted he’d assumed I liked being needed. When we discussed the monthly payments, he confessed that some had become such a normal part of his budget that he’d forgotten I was covering them voluntarily.

I explained that this was precisely why things needed to change. He didn’t argue again, and before leaving, he carried my suitcase downstairs and hugged me longer than usual.

“Have a wonderful trip, Mom.”

His words didn’t erase years of assumptions, but they gave me hope that our relationship could improve.

During the following days, I completed medical appointments, checked my passport, purchased travel insurance, and arranged transportation from Lisbon. My longtime neighbor Ellen agreed to collect my mail and care for the house while I was away.

I packed comfortable shoes, watercolor supplies, a travel journal, and Leonard’s old camera. I also brought his worn gray sweater, something I’d carried on every important journey since his death.

Joanna drove me to the airport and treated me to breakfast. She reminded me that I’d once decorated her school lunch bags with drawings of houses, and she encouraged me to start painting again.

“Take pictures of everything, Mom. Especially the little things nobody else thinks are important.”

Her advice stayed with me throughout the flight.

When I finally arrived in Óbidos, a friendly rental manager named Inês helped me carry my luggage through the narrow cobblestone streets. The house was exactly as I’d imagined, with blue shutters, terracotta planters, exposed wooden beams, and a peaceful courtyard.

Before leaving, Inês explained how everything worked and recommended a nearby bakery. When I admitted that I felt nervous about spending so much time alone, she smiled reassuringly.

“New places always feel strange at first. Tomorrow, go outside and have coffee. You’ll feel better.”

The following morning, I visited the bakery, ordered coffee and a pastel de nata, and watched people passing along the street. Nobody knew me as Derek’s mother or expected me to prepare dinner.

For the first time in decades, I could simply enjoy being myself.

During my first week, I explored the historic town, photographed colorful doorways, and painted in the courtyard. My first watercolor was terrible, but I laughed at the result instead of criticizing myself.

A week before Christmas, Derek emailed to confirm he’d transferred the subscriptions and storage payments into his name. He admitted he hadn’t realized how much I’d still been covering.

I thanked him and went outside to enjoy the afternoon.

Then, on Christmas Eve, my phone displayed an unexpected message from Cassandra…

PART 4: A Christmas Without Obligations

Christmas Eve arrived with cold drizzle drifting through the streets of Óbidos. I spent the morning admiring holiday decorations, browsing small shops, and choosing gifts for my grandchildren.

That afternoon, Cassandra sent me a message explaining that she’d ordered a turkey from a local restaurant. She admitted it wouldn’t be the same as my homemade dinner, then added something I hadn’t expected.

“I probably shouldn’t have said what I said at Thanksgiving. I was trying to be funny.”

It wasn’t a complete apology, but it was the first time she’d acknowledged hurting me. I explained that cooking was something I enjoyed doing for people I loved, not the sum of my identity.

After a brief pause, she replied that she understood.

I wasn’t certain she truly did, but I appreciated the effort.

On Christmas morning, Joanna called from beside her decorated tree and asked to see my holiday arrangements. I showed her the small wreath Inês had left on my door and the candle decorating my kitchen table.

When she asked what I was preparing for dinner, I explained that I’d reserved a table at a local restaurant.

“No turkey?”

“Not unless somebody else cooks it.”

We laughed together, and I realized how much lighter Christmas felt without the responsibility of organizing everyone else’s celebration.

Later, Derek called with the grandchildren, who excitedly described their presents and asked whether reindeer lived in Portugal. I showed them the view outside my window and promised to bring home souvenirs.

Cassandra briefly appeared behind them to wish me Merry Christmas. Our exchange was slightly awkward, but neither of us tried to turn it into another disagreement.

Afterward, I sat beside the window listening to church bells echo beyond the town walls. I missed the familiar Christmas mornings I’d shared with Leonard and our children, but missing those traditions didn’t mean I’d made the wrong decision.

January brought new experiences. I joined a watercolor class with five other travelers, including a retired English couple and a Canadian woman who’d spent nearly a year exploring Europe.

They asked about my favorite books, my travels, and my interest in painting. For once, nobody expected me to define myself through household chores or favors.

I began remembering parts of my life I’d rarely discussed, including my years at the dental practice, my adventures abroad, and the dreams Leonard had encouraged me to pursue.