When my daughter-in-law suddenly decided she wanted the grandsons she had abandoned years earlier, she warned me that if I fought her, I might lose them forever.

What she didn’t realize was that I had a hidden advantage she knew nothing about.

I’m seventy-three years old now, and this is what happened.

Ten years ago, in the middle of a stormy night, two police officers knocked on my door at two in the morning. I had dozed off on the couch with the television still humming softly.

Even before opening the door, something in my chest told me that terrible news was waiting outside.

When I answered, one officer removed his hat respectfully.

“Margaret?” he asked.

My mouth felt dry. “Yes.”

“Ma’am, I’m very sorry to inform you, but your son David was involved in a car accident tonight.”

After that, the details blurred together—wet pavement, loss of control, a crash into a tree. My son had died at the scene.