My 16-Year-Old Son Went to Stay with His Grandmother for the Summer – One Day, I Got a Call from Her
When my son, Jake, left to spend the summer with my mother, I thought it would be good for him. He had been acting out lately—staying out too late, ignoring curfews, and being glued to his phone. I hoped a few months in the countryside, away from distractions, would bring him back to himself.
For the first few weeks, things seemed fine. My mother would send me occasional updates—how he was helping her in the garden, how they watched old movies together. I felt relieved. Maybe this was exactly what Jake needed.
Then, one afternoon, my phone rang. It was my mother.
Her voice was trembling. “You need to come here. Now.”
Panic surged through me. “What’s wrong? Is Jake okay?”
There was a long pause. Then she said something that made my stomach drop.
“I found something, and I don’t know what to do.”
I didn’t waste time asking questions. I jumped into my car and drove the two hours to her house, my mind racing with worst-case scenarios. Was Jake in trouble? Had he done something terrible?
When I arrived, my mother met me at the door, her face pale. Without a word, she led me to Jake’s room. My heart pounded as she handed me a small, locked metal box.
“I found this under his bed,” she whispered.
Jake wasn’t home—he had gone into town with some friends—so I took the box outside to the porch, pried it open with a screwdriver, and looked inside.
What I found took my breath away.
Inside were wads of cash, an old photograph of a woman I didn’t recognize, and a handwritten letter addressed to “Dad.”
Dad? Jake never knew his father. He left before he was born. So why would Jake have a letter for him?
With shaking hands, I unfolded the note and began to read:
“Dad, I don’t know if you even remember me. But I remember you. I found you. I know where you are. And I’m coming to see you.”
Tears blurred my vision. My son had tracked down his father—the man who abandoned us. And from the amount of cash in the box, it looked like he was planning to run away to meet him.
I turned to my mother. “Did you know about this?”
She shook her head. “I had no idea. But we need to stop him.”
That evening, when Jake returned, I confronted him. At first, he denied everything, but when I showed him the letter, he broke down.
“I just wanted to know why he left,” he whispered.
I pulled him into a hug. “I know, sweetheart. But running away isn’t the answer.”
We sat for hours talking—about his feelings, his anger, his questions. By the end of the night, he agreed to stay.
That summer didn’t just change Jake. It changed us both.
And I knew then that our bond was stronger than ever.
