'I was so close to my grandparents growing up. Now, they refuse to speak to me.'

As a little kid, my grandparents were the stuff of dreams. Although my family and I lived overseas in Asia, when we went home, I'd have three months of utter magic with grandparents. They wrote me stories, took me on road trips, and turned bush walks into a fairy wonderland, giving me memories to last a lifetime.

This strong bond fostered in childhood didn't translate as I aged, though.

As I grew, it felt like they were less interested in me as a person. They never really asked me questions about my life; didn't really hear what I was saying when I tried to speak to them; and they seemed to struggle to update their perception of me with each visit as I matured from child to teen to young adult, to the 30-year-old I am now.

But there were still plenty of shared good times — every year, they'd travel over for Christmas, and I'd visit them when I could, including special birthdays.

In my mid-20s, I struggled immensely with eating disorders and other mental health struggles, and it made me a challenge to be around. My grandparents witnessed me at my lowest while they were over for Christmas one year, but rather than offering compassion or empathy, they treated me with utter disdain for the stress I was causing my parents.

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Over the past six years, I've worked tirelessly to turn my life around. I am so proud to now be a healthy, happy, homeowner, as well as a pet mum, fiancée, and successful sole trader of my own business. My parents couldn't be prouder of how I've dug myself out of a deep dark hole, but my grandparents have not seen me as a redeemable person for six years.

The thing is, my grandparents aren't incapable of empathy for a struggle. My uncle Billy*, whom they adopted as a baby, has been a tormented soul his whole life. For the sake of his privacy I'll spare the grim details, but he has done far worse than I, and has caused an insurmountable amount of pain and disappointment to all family members throughout his 50 years of life.

My grandparents have always defended him, bailed him out, financially supported him, and excused his behaviour. They will not hear a negative word about him, despite his consistently poor behaviour to family, friends, and employers alike. They expect us all to love him as family because they love him. 

For me, though, I simply haven't had a relationship with him. He was never interested in seeing me when I visited as a child, and he now lives overseas. I haven't seen him since my brother's wedding in 2017, and even then he wouldn't interact with me.

When my fiancé and I told my family that our wedding guest list was fewer than 40 people — and sans Uncle Billy — they didn't object. We had put a lot of thought into it, and wanted a tiny wedding with just those closest to us in attendance. We wanted it to be special, intimate, and of course, cost-effective, too.

My parents agreed wholeheartedly. Why would Billy come? We don't have a relationship, and he was nothing but a nuisance at my brother's wedding of 150 people seven years prior. Plus, my fiancé's one request was to not be meeting people for the first time at the wedding, and given Billy's absence from all our invites, there'd be no way to introduce him beforehand.

He's also been prone to cancelling at the last minute in the past, and the per-head cost of a wedding is too expensive to be dealing with that flaky behaviour.

Six months after the initial conversation with the whole family, I got a call from my parents on a Sunday night.

"All weddings have their guest list dramas," Dad explained, empathetic. "Unfortunately, we're about to tell you yours."

Without speaking to me about it, my grandparents had decided that if Billy wasn't invited, they would not attend my wedding. The real kicker? My uncles, aunts, and cousins were being made to "support" my grandparents' decision, and would no longer be attending.

In an attempt to resolve the damage, my mother asked if they would attend the wedding if I invited Billy.

"No, the damage has been done," my grandfather said.

When my parents called to break the news, I was confused and inconsolable — this conversation had been going on for 10 days, and not a single family member had called me. There was no opportunity to reconcile. My grandparents, who once wrote me stories, would rather boycott my wedding and never speak to me again than simply pick up the phone. They would rather defend someone who has never treated any of us with a shred of respect — and ruin the happiest day of my life — than simply ask me to invite him.

I've tried reaching out, and I've told them my line, as always, is open and accessible for communication, but they will not respond.

All those childhood memories are now tainted as I play 'The Grudge' by Olivia Rodrigo over and over in my car.

The irony is, they're treating my mum even worse than me — those parents they once chastised me for making so miserable are the very people they now refuse to even speak to.

I feel blindsided, and the drama of it all seems totally avoidable through a phone conversation and simple communication. But the response seems so extreme it's almost like I'm missing something.

So I ask... am I the a**hole here, or is it reasonable to expect that for one afternoon, people allow me to choose who I spend an intimate moment of my life with?

I heard recently that all parents just want the world to love their child. 

But is this the inevitable outcome when we refuse to see any fault in our children?

The writer of this story is known to Mamamia but has chosen to remain anonymous. Names have been changed for privacy reasons.

Feature image: Getty.