Imagine losing your child but holding on to a piece of him through his own son—supporting that child financially and emotionally in every way possible. Life, however, often has a way of taking unexpected turns.
I lost my son a few years ago.
He had been seeing a young woman for a few months, and it was at his funeral that I learned she was about 13 weeks pregnant. They were both just 22. After everything settled, I politely requested a DNA test. Using my family’s DNA, it was confirmed — I did indeed have a grandson, whom we’ll call “Dave Jr.”
My husband and I decided we wanted to support “Lissa,” the mother, however we could. Financially, we’re in a good place, so we committed to providing her with monthly “child support,” matching what my son would have paid based on a $30k annual income—according to our state’s guidelines.
We’ve been using our personal funds for this, including money that had been set aside for Dave Sr.’s future education. In addition to that, we treated little Dave just like all our other grandchildren—with gifts, outings, and love.
Fast forward to this summer — Lissa got married to a man named Allen.
He seems like a nice guy, and I was genuinely happy for her. This past weekend, they both came over, saying they wanted to “have a talk.”
It turns out they plan for Allen to legally adopt Dave Jr., and they’re moving out of state. They also asked if, once the adoption is finalized, we could update the name on any accounts we had in place. They assured us they’d send pictures and that we could visit sometimes—but requested that we not mention our son until “he’s old enough.”
At that point, I made my position clear: if Allen wants to take over as Dave Jr.’s father, then he can take over the financial responsibilities too. I told them I would no longer be paying the “child support” and made it clear that there are no special accounts set aside—and that I wasn’t going to play along pretending to be some distant “family friend.” I then asked them to leave.
Now, Lissa and Allen are upset and acting like I’m the villain. My husband fully supports me, my daughter is torn, and my youngest son has remained silent. Meanwhile, Lissa’s relatives and Allen’s mother have been reaching out, urging me to “sit down and talk things through.”
