I was twenty-five years old then, and for the past two months Id made my home with my grandmother.
My auntGrans only daughter still livinghad died quite suddenly two months prior. Until then, Gran and my aunt had shared everything: their roof, their routines, even their quiet moments. I would visit often, always welcomed, but naturally, each of us led her own separate life. Everything changed the moment Gran was left on her own.
Grief was not something unfamiliar to me. My mother died when I was nineteen, and from that point Id become accustomed to absence as a fact of daily life. Id never really known my fatherno drama, no family secretshe simply wasnt there. So, when my aunt passed away, it became starkly clear: now it was just Gran and me.
Those first days after the funeral were odd and hollow. Gran rarely cried, yet her pain showed in a hundred small ways: she moved more slowly, forgot to turn off the lights, would sit for ages just staring into space. I told myself Id stay a few days. But those days stretched into weeks. One afternoon, as I tucked my clothes into the wardrobe, I realised Id stopped planning to leave at all.
Naturally, opinions werent far behind. People always talk, dont they?
Some remarked that Id done the decent thingwho could leave an ageing grandmother, bereaved of her daughter, to manage alone? Others insisted I was wasting my youth, that twenty-five is for travelling, meeting people, perhaps falling in love and living life to the full. They asked if it weighed on me, if I felt trapped, if I wasnt worried about ending up completely on my own one day.
But the truth is, I saw matters differently.
I worked, I saved, kept the house in order, took Gran to see the doctor, cooked meals with her, and we watched television together in the evenings. I never felt I was giving up something precious; instead, I felt I was choosing. These days, I havent a partner, I dont dream of children or a new life abroad. I crave steadiness, I value presence, and above all, I am determined not to repeat the cycle of abandonment I already know too well.
Gran is all I have left of my immediate family. With no mother, no aunt, no father, I cannot bear the thought of her spending her last years feeling shes a burden or in the way. I dont want her eating alone every evening or drifting off to sleep thinking no one is there for her.
Perhaps one day, my life will follow a different course. Perhaps Ill travel, or fall in love, and move away. But for the time being, this is where I belong. Not out of duty, or guilt, but simply out of love for my grandmother and for myself, in our togetherness.
And so, if you were in my place, what would you have done?
