10/13/2025
My grandson forced me to sleep on the yoga mat while he slept on a huge bed — less than in 24 hours karma took its turn.
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I'm 87, and I thought I'd seen it all—wars, heartbreak, even two strokes. But nothing hurts like being betrayed by the boy I raised as my own.
My grandson, Tyler, came into this world the day his mother, my sweet Marianne, died. His father drowned in whiskey, so I fed him, rocked him to sleep, bought his first shoes. I gave him everything.
But the man he became? A stranger. He's 32, still under my roof, not out of care but convenience. "Why waste money on rent, Grandma?" he says. Outsiders see devotion, but the truth? He won't spend a dime.
He hides behind "spirituality." Dawn meditations, yoga, crystals, endless talk of "vibrations." Enlightened outside, but I see the mask: no job, shady friends, constant excuses.
So when he said, "Grandma, come with me and Willow on a trip," I thought maybe he wanted to reconnect. Instead, it was about saving money.
We drove to Charleston, not to a hotel but to a cluttered apartment. Two bedrooms. His had a wide bed and a small single. My heart lifted—then Tyler's face hardened. "Uh, no. Willow and I need our energy protected… the smell, the snoring…"
He rolled out a yoga mat in the hallway. "You'll be fine, Grandma. Strong as ever. Maybe you'll absorb good energy from the floor."
That night I lay on hardwood, bones screaming, while laughter and creaking echoed behind their door.
By morning, I could barely move. Tyler barely noticed. "Come on, Grandma. Brunch. My treat."
But fate had other plans. Less than an hour later, karma came for him—and handed me back my dignity when he kneeled before me begging for forgiveness.⬇️⬇️⬇️