(no subject)

[conuly]

Dear Annie: I'm 63 years old, and I live alone in a quiet little house with my dog, Rosie. I like to sit on the porch in the evenings and watch the sun go down, but lately the silence feels heavier than it used to.

My daughter, who is in her 30s, moved to Texas with her husband about a year ago -- and since then, she hasn't spoken to me. Not a text, not a call, not even a holiday card. I send messages, reach out on birthdays, even mailed her a little photo of Rosie wearing a birthday hat.

I know there's something from her childhood that she's struggling with. Something painful that she believes I didn't protect her from. And the truth is, maybe I didn't. Her father died 26 years ago, and we were both trying to survive the grief in our own ways. I was overwhelmed and didn't always see what was right in front of me. I've tried to say I'm sorry, in words and gestures, but she's built a wall I haven't been able to get through.

Some days, I want to get in the car and drive the 800 miles just to knock on her door and see her face. Other days, I wonder if I should just give up and let her have the distance she clearly wants.

How does a mother keep loving her child from afar when the door has been shut so firmly? Is there anything I can do to open it again -- or do I have to learn to live with the silence? -- Grieving But Still Reaching Out

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I know what I think, but I honestly don't know what anybody else will think

[conuly]

DEAR ABBY: My 40-year-old daughter is on weight-loss injections and a no-sugar diet. I offered to bake her a sugar-free cheesecake, and she agreed, but she asked me to make a "tester" cake three days before. I explained that the cake has a lengthy preparation process, involving a very slow bake in a water bath and 12 hours chill time. I suggested she wait, but she insisted, so I made it early. She cut a slice of it and exclaimed how great it tasted.

Three days later, I baked and decorated a carrot cake to use as her "official" birthday cake, since the sugar-free cake had been cut and wouldn't look nice in photos. (Carrot is her children's favorite.) I hosted everyone at an expensive restaurant, gave her French perfume and a weekend getaway.

When we returned from the dinner, my daughter angrily said, "Get in here so we can cut this stupid cake, which I can't eat!" I was shocked and confused. She said I shouldn't have made a cake of a flavor she dislikes, but I pointed out that she had the sugar-free cake, too. Apparently, she had expected me to bake a second sugar-free cheesecake. I chewed her out for being ungrateful. Was I wrong? -- UNAPPRECIATED IN CALIFORNIA

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