Daughter O'Mine

Pre-amble:

As a counsellor I have had the privilege to work with grieved loved ones.

In particular, the grief of a parent or a loved one that has been effectively ‘ghosted’ by their child, relative or loved one is particularly hurtful when enacted without any overt malice or wrongdoing ever voiced by the party doing the ‘ghosting’.

In this digital age, it is also very easy for a person to do, creating hurt without ever taking the respectful approach of letting the other party to the relationship know their deep-seated concerns.  Only by doing so can the other party take corrective steps and have a shot at redemption.

My prose below captures the emotions of a mother whose daughter ghosted her at 16 years of age. She left home one day to never return. Her mother is now 69 years old and despite her efforts to unite with her daughter soon after separation, to this day she has not been able to do so.

In my 39 years of practice as a counsellor, I have only come across one other mother in a similar situation.  The absence of her daughter, despite her being alive, remains deeply impactful. She intentionally keeps herself occupied with various activities to manage the emotional effects of her daughter's withdrawal from their relationship.

I am quite therefore sure that ‘ghosting’ in this digital age also wreaks havoc on those to whom it is directed.

 

Daughter O’Mine

I am without daughter although I had a daughter for several decades and then some.

I was spurned by my daughter for reasons that I cannot exactly fathom. Like the deep depths of the murky sea that hold numerous clues and secrets that can be difficult to grasp.

I was not a bad mother, or so I think. I loved my daughter, held her to my breast and caressed her tiny body, as caring mothers do. When she found a particular interest, I nurtured that, as caring mothers do.

I fed, clothed and spoke to her often in a loving, considerate manner, as mothers do.

I offered guidance, encouragement and direction with her pursuits, but this over time fell on mute ears. I had always assumed that if my daughter had ‘gifts’ then she should not turn her back on them but nourish them.

Come teenage hood, my daughter now has her own mind and will. I respect that; however, she no longer confides in me and now stands apart from me. She questions the path we have come in celebrating her gifts, the violin, the piano - despite being quite accomplished and recognised for her talent.

Then one day she leaves for her usual piano lesson and never returns, choosing to live with a family member instead.

My world comes crashing down as I realise she has chosen another lifestyle with someone other than her mother. I am shaken to the core as this realisation with each daybreak sinks in after her departure.

I have many unanswered questions - mostly why my daughter chose to leave me without a word. My reaching out to her yields silence, as if I do not exist. Our joint effort in pursuing her endeavours in life is now in malaise, mythical, as a dream.

It is a hurt from which I cannot heal without my daughter telling me where I went wrong or hurt her to the extent she wants nothing further to do with me. It is a gaping, nagging, raw wound that possesses me and from which I regularly cry and heave, like the river Nile. My head and heart aches day and night seeking the single desperate correction; to put the stars again in their rightful position in the night sky. It dawns on me like a destructive thick fog that there is no self-redemption.

For we have one life and cannot turn back the passage of time to do things differently with our children from what has been.

Thirty years has now passed with not so much as a word or contact from my daughter. My anguish and tears have emptied my inner well of hope and dried up. I accept fault and only wish her a life of contentment and happiness.

I look back now at my daughter’s childhood and wish I had played games with her, all manner of games, and spoken more often with her as a familiar friend rather than as a parent. In place of that, we sacrificed time and childish fun for the more serious endeavour of bringing her talents to light.

There were days when I had to encourage her to practice the piano and violin because she was disinterested or bored. I had always thought I had her best interests in mind but appreciate now after three decades that my daughter probably thought otherwise.

Ironically, she went on to be an accomplished piano player and teacher. So all was not abandoned and her talent realised - but I am a lost mother to her and remain so.

I can tell you that as a childless mother the grief and cost is immeasurable. I forewent a lifetime of being by my daughter’s side and experiencing firsthand her highs and lows as she entered adult life. The shutters were firmly closed to me watching her blossom into a woman and becoming a parent. I feel robbed and deeply upset about losing those moments - like a quintessential chocolate melting in the sun and its taste never being realised.

I would do anything to replay childhood moments again with my daughter, like rain falling from the sky and quenching the desert sand’s thirst, so needy and wanting.

I would play all the childhood games we could together, joyfully and meaningfully, basking in one another’s company.

My daughter is now a mother of four children, and she continues to spread ill comment of me as a bad mother to my grand-children. I have given up trying to reunite with my daughter knowing that her contempt of me would be to risk rubbing salt on my former gaping wound.

My daughter is now someone I barely know, a fading memory of the precious child I cared and nurtured. My flesh and blood lives, but only as a ‘ghost’ to me. In my senior years, I will now likely take the glimmer of my daughter and unrealised hopes to my grave.

I thought I cared for my daughter as mother’s do.

I now sense as a child in my care she was likely seeking an unconditional love without constraints or time limitations posed by the pursuit of her talents. She wanted to be loved for who she was in the moment - not what she had the potential to become.  I realise this now – too late – and without hope of redemption!

I thought her musical talents as an artist coincided with her interests and should find full expression. It seems I was mistaken wanting this for my daughter. Her actions suggest she was seeking expression and acceptance for who she was, devoid of her talents and skill set.

So be wary fellow parents of children. Love your children for who they are in the moment and let them play as children with unrestrained joy with their peers and you.

There will always be time for more serious pursuits later in life, but they need to be children first.

I thought I loved my daughter as other mother’s do!

My daughter however turned her back hastily on the life she had with me to find an alternative expression.

That is fine to a point - and I can finally accept that, but ‘ghosting’ me for a lifetime is not. She must sit in the deep recesses of my mind, for any refinement in the light of day quickly stirs my heart all over.

‘Ghosting’ at anytime is hurtful. When it is your long-term partner or bloodline, even more so. Worst of all, the ‘wrong’ can never be righted or an apology toward redemption made. The continued silence is loud and unwelcoming, like vitriolic thunderclaps.

Will I never get to know and love my daughter as other mother’s do!

Tim Halls

Dec 12, 2025