We’re not a care home, I don’t want her here…
My grandmother shared this intriguing life story with me during one of my visits to her village. I had been abroad for two years due to work. When I returned to England, my first stop was to see my dear grandmother.
After staying in the village for a few days, I realized I hadn’t seen Mary Smith, my grandmother’s neighbor across the road. I had always liked this kind-hearted elderly woman. She was a great worker.
“Gran, where’s your friend Mary Smith? I haven’t seen her all week. Is she alright?” I asked, concerned.
My grandmother looked at me with surprise.
“Oh, she’s been in a care home for over a year now,” she replied, catching herself. “Oh, you wouldn’t know that! Listen to this.”
And so, Gran told me her story.
As I mentioned, Granny Mary was always working tirelessly. No one in the village ever saw her idle. Whether she was tending to her garden, welcoming the cattle back, baking pies (sharing them with half the village!), or hurrying to catch the early morning bus with two buckets of cherries. She would sell fresh vegetables, fruits, greenery, eggs, goat wool scarves, cream, and cottage cheese at the town market, saving every penny diligently in a biscuit tin.
But the savings weren’t for her. How much does one really need? It was all for her only son, Bill, his wife, Jane, and their daughter, Alex. They lived in the city, a three-hour drive away, visiting regularly. They never helped with the garden or animals but came consistently for the country produce. Sometimes, they would fill the car boot so much it looked like the tires might burst.
As years passed, Mary grew older and her health began to fail. Her back would ache, her legs throb, her worn hands swelled, and her blood pressure skyrocketed. Slowly, she began reducing her livestock, leaving just a couple of rows of plants, allowing neighbors to plant potatoes on the rest. Bill visited less frequently, and Jane stopped coming altogether once there was no more to take from the village mother.
When Mary’s eyesight began to deteriorate rapidly, she got scared. She called her son and asked him to take her to city doctors. Bill came and took his mother away.
Jane wasn’t thrilled to see her mother-in-law but didn’t let it show. She invited her to freshen up, gave her a meal. Bill suggested a thorough check-up for his mother. They spent the whole day at the clinic, then stopped by the pharmacy for medication.
It was too late to return to the village. Jane, upon learning that Mary would stay overnight, couldn’t hide her disappointment any longer. She headed to the kitchen to prepare dinner, clattering the dishes so much it was deafening. At that moment, an elderly neighbor popped in to visit. Seeing Mary, she was delighted:
“Mary Smith! It’s been ages since we saw you here. Just a quick visit? Come on in, let’s have some tea and chat like old times.”
After taking his mother to the neighbor’s, Bill went to talk to Jane in the kitchen.
“Cooking, Jane? I wanted to chat while Mum’s not around.”
“What about?” Jane’s voice indicated she wasn’t pleased with the topic already.
“Mum’s really not doing well,” Bill hesitated, “At the clinic, they found she’s full of ailments. Her legs are so bad she can barely walk.”
“She’s not young, Bill. What did you expect? That’s how old age works.”
“Exactly,” Bill eagerly continued. “We have a three-bedroom flat. Alex and her husband live in London; they’re unlikely to move back. So…”
“Hang on, where’s this going?” Jane put down the knife, “You want her to live here? Are you out of your mind? A three-bedroom flat, yes, but not a retirement home, Bill.”
“Mind you, a couple of rooms in this flat were funded by Mum’s cherries and strawberries she sold each summer,” Bill pointed out sarcastically.
“Are you seriously throwing that in my face?” Jane fumed, “Your mother helped her own son and granddaughter, not strangers.”
“You’re a harsh woman, Jane,” Bill sighed sorrowfully. “I thought we’d take Mum in, live contentedly. She has a sturdy, solid house. It’d fetch a good price, we could trade in the car, maybe take a trip to Spain…”
“She can choke on her house!” Jane yelled. “A week abroad, and then ten years of me carrying her pots around?! Found yourself a Cinderella?”
“What are you saying, idiot?” Bill flared up, suddenly noticing Mary standing in the doorway.
The kitchen went silent, as if everyone had gone deaf.
“Mum, have you been here long?” Bill mumbled.
“No, just walked in,” Mary smiled gently, “I’ll just grab my glasses; we’re looking at an album with Kate. Oh, I nearly forgot, I’ve decided to move to a care home next month, so if you could help me with my stuff.”
Bill was speechless. But Jane buzzed into action:
“Of course, he’ll help. I’ll come along. We’ll pack everything up and move you in. That’s a wise decision. Living with peers is more fun.”
The local care home, where the dutiful son and daughter-in-law took Mary, stirred complex feelings in Bill. No doubt, the staff were wonderful, the manager kindhearted and soulful. Clearly, they cared for the elderly warmly and attentively. However, the building itself needed repairs badly. The corridor linoleum was threadbare, the windows drafty, and the leisure room had only a broken television and worn-out chairs.
Mary’s room was small and damp. The bed was saggy, the chairs wobbly. But Mary never showed any dissatisfaction with the surroundings.
“Don’t worry, Mum,” Bill said cheerily, “I’ll renovate this place so well everyone will be envious. I’ll do it once I’m on leave. So, don’t miss us, we’ll visit soon. Expect us.”
Bill remembered his promise only half a year later when Jane reminded him they needed to deal with the parental house. It was summer, the best time to sell.
The manager made no reproach about the rare visitors. He spoke warmly about Mary.
“Before you go to the second floor, stop by the leisure room. Your grandmother might be watching TV with her friends. Let me show you the way.”
Mary wasn’t in the leisure room. Looking around, Jane whistled.
“Wow! Such a transformation here. New sofas, armchairs, a wall-sized TV. Flowers everywhere. It’s stunning! That must have cost a fortune?”
“You should thank your mother,” the manager smiled.
“Mother?” Bill shook his head, “How is she involved?”
“All of this beauty was bought with her money.”
“Where would she get such money?” Jane laughed, then suddenly gasped, “Bill?! Did she sell the house?”
Mary watched with a calm smile as her angry relatives bombarded her with reproaches and accusations of selfishness.
“Why are you so worked up? I sold my house, not yours. I have every right. I’m happy here, it’s warm and fun. I just wanted to do something nice for nice people.”
Granny Mary looked mischievously at the red-faced Jane.
“Better to sell a house and bring joy than choke on it, right, Jane?”
Jane lowered her eyes and darted outside like a bullet. There was nothing left to change…
