A Diary Entry: How a Grandson Brought His Nan Back to Life
Lauren and Paul drove to the countryside with their son, Eddie, to visit Lauren’s mother, hoping to leave the boy with his grandmother for the school break. Along the way, they stocked up on groceries—sausages, Mum’s favourite cake, all her usual treats. But when they arrived, Teresa hardly seemed pleased. She offered nothing but tea, despite the fridge now packed full. She barely touched a thing, just shuffled off to the sofa, exhausted.
Outside, spring was creeping in. The snow had melted, leaving puddles under the weak sunlight. Lauren stood by the window, squinting. “Lovely weather,” she thought, remembering her father, who’d passed two years ago. He’d always loved spring, saying, “We’ve made it through another winter!” So full of life, always joking, hugging… Mum had been stern but warm, her grumbling laced with affection. They’d truly adored each other. Now, without him, Teresa seemed hollow—just going through the motions.
Later, Lauren’s sister Gemma rang, her voice tight with worry:
“Lauren, Mum’s worse. Says she’s tired of living. Wants to be with Dad…”
“We’ll come this weekend,” Lauren promised, though her chest ached. Maybe they should just bring Teresa home? Living alone was too much.
And home was hardly peaceful. Their eldest, Eleanor, was always clashing with Paul, insisting she’d move out the minute she turned eighteen—sick of “being nagged.” Meanwhile, little Eddie was glued to his phone morning till night.
“Let’s fetch Mum, and take Eddie with us. Get him off that screen,” Paul suggested.
Eddie groaned. “What’s there to even do?”
“A proper break!” Eleanor snapped. “For all of us.”
That weekend, arms laden with shopping bags, they returned. Teresa greeted them, but her smile didn’t reach her eyes. Paul nudged Lauren—*She’s putting it on.* Yet she looked worn, refusing food, sipping only tea. When Lauren asked if Eddie could stay, Teresa just shrugged. “If you like.”
Eddie sulked as they left. Alone, Teresa retreated to her room—and wept. Memories flooded back: meeting her Terry, shy and stumbling, introduced by her aunt. That spring, so full of hope. And now? Just emptiness.
Then—a yelp. Teresa startled. Eddie! He’d pinched his finger, scowling and pitiful.
“Why so cross, love? Hungry?” she murmured.
“Their food’s rubbish. Won’t eat it,” he grumbled. “Make your milky noodles instead. The sweet ones, with butter.”
Her heart clenched. Terry had loved that dish too, always asking for it when low. Groaning, she heaved herself up.
“Only if you eat with me,” Eddie added. “It’s boring alone.”
And so, they settled into a rhythm. Lauren rang daily. At first, Teresa was curt. Then came the gripes:
“Won’t wipe his boots! Claims his belly aches. So I fixed that—no sweets till he stops tracking mud. Clever, really!”
Paul chuckled. “There we go! Someone to fuss over—proper living again!”
A week later, they returned for Eddie—only for him to refuse to leave! Teresa blinked back tears.
“Spit of his granddad. Stubborn, sweet, and sly.”
“Don’t cry, Nan. I’ll be back soon,” Eddie vowed, solemn.
“You’d better. We’ve the garden to tend, the gate to mend—you promised!”
“I will, Nan. Promise.”
Teresa smiled through her tears.
“And give him his phone back—he’s to ring me!” she ordered.
“Brilliant, how you sorted them,” Lauren laughed at home.
“Took one to know one. Our Eddie’d rouse anyone—even Mum off that sofa. She was halfway gone.”
Now she had reason to keep going. Eddie—just like Terry. And Teresa? Still sharp as a tack. “Raised you right, didn’t she?” Paul grinned.
They laughed then. Life, it seemed, was mending itself.
