I feel betrayed by my estranged son - what should I do? After an abusive marriage, my husband and I split up a long time ago. Both our children chose to stay with their wealthy father. A daughter, then a teenager, was taught to insult me under her father's watch, and still wants nothing to do with me. The younger son, less hostile, eventually asked to have a relationship 18 years later. He has been kind to me, if not all that attentive. The problem is I am retired, and working at other jobs to make ends meet. I've lent him money, opened credit lines to help him in his business, and so on. He promises to pay me back but so far no paybacks. Recently, he called to ask for my credit card number to rent a car, saying he lost his - and used the card six more times after that without asking, for a total of about $500. We've had several conversations about his fiscal responsibility toward me. I've told him I don't want to see him until he pays back the $500. He said okay. That was the last family member I had. I feel heartbroken and betrayed, again. Any ideas? That's a tough one - a real heartbreaker. I've heard experts describe being estranged from one's grown offspring as "the silent epidemic" because - well, I guess that's pretty self-explanatory, but basically because it happens maybe more than we think and most people don't like to talk about it. So thank you, first of all, for your courage and honesty in writing to me. It really is the saddest outcome. They say "a mother is only as happy as her saddest child" but I would say even sadder is the mother estranged from her grown children. I know if any of my three boys (currently ages 17, 14, and 11) were to turn his back on me when he grew up, I'd be crushed. I'd be devastated - and I confess with a slight top-note of feeling a little burned and resentful. Bringing a baby to adulthood is a mountain of work. I'd want to say: "You mean, I changed your stinking, steaming diapers all those years, I woke up all those nights, busted my hump to keep you fed and clothed and sheltered - and now you repay me by turning your back on me? Fine! If you pay me one million dollars! But, see, here's the thing: I know in advance I'd swallow that anger and resentment (which is really just the pain talking anyway) and would do anything, literally anything, to be able to be part of my beautiful boys" lives and listen to them talk about relationships, jobs, problems and whatever else as they navigate the vicissitudes of adult life. And that, madam, is what I would urge you to do, too. Step one: Inhale, exhale, and let everything, and I mean everything, go. Sure, your ex might be a snake in the grass who poisoned your daughter against you. Your son might be a deadbeat shaking you down for your meagre pension fund and part-time earnings. None of that is obviously ideal, but ... I think the first step in healing these rifts is to erase the slate and forget all about who's right and who's wrong. As my wise and commonsensical old grandmother used to say: "If you get hit and killed by a bus, does it really matter that you had the right of way?" Step two: Ask yourself: "Have I erred at all with respect to my two grown children?" If you responded "no" to that question, I, your friendly neighbourhood advice columnist, press an invisible buzzer - bzzt! Wrong answer! It's a simple, Aristotelian-type syllogism: "To err is human. You are human. Therefore, trust me, especially in the case of a family rift, you have screwed up in some way. Figure out how. Often these things have roots deep in childhood (and could be as simple as you seemed to prefer one sibling over the other), and are only "triggered" by some adult event, e.g. divorce and/or your ex talking trash about you. Only you can know. Soul-search, then reach out, first to your son - but also to your daughter. If she won't speak to you, write her a letter. Be sincere. Don't spoil your mea culpa with justification or recrimination. You're just trying to establish communication. Meanwhile, you resent it and can't afford it and he's not paying you back, so stop lending your son money! I think part of the problem lies in the oxymoronic phrase "grown children." People get confused ... But mainly he's a grown-up and your fiscal responsibility to him is now officially over. Let the $500 go. You're never going to see it again, but you do want to see him again, don't you? Bottom line: heal these rifts. It's never too late! A character in Lawrence Durrell's Balthazar quotes a Greek proverb to the effect of "The young, like vines, use us to climb into the world; we use their strong bodies to climb down to our proper deaths." What's $500 in the grand scheme? You don't want to die estranged from your own children, do you? You want them there, holding your hand, tears in their eyes, sorry to see you go. What am I supposed to do now? Are you in a sticky situation? Send your dilemmas to damage@globeandmail.com. Please keep your submissions to 150 words and include a daytime contact number so we can follow up with any queries.