“Ivan’s really slowing down,” remarked Emily to her husband as she stirred the potato salad.
“What makes you say that?” asked David, surprised.
“He couldn’t lift little Sophie to put the star on the tree earlier. And before…” Emily sighed.
“Dad’s still got plenty of life in him, maybe he was just tired,” David insisted.
“No, David, age catches up with all of us. You’ll do the weekly shop for your parents now, and don’t argue,” Emily adjusted her hair and picked up the salad bowl. “Let’s sit down.”
Ivan had heard everything. He paused to flick on the bathroom light and caught the conversation between his son and daughter-in-law.
The Johnsons had a New Year’s Eve tradition: the whole family gathered at the parents’ home for a feast, celebrating their favourite winter holiday together. This year was no different. The eldest son and his family arrived first. Emily helped set the table while the grandchildren decorated the tree in the living room.
Ivan turned on the tap and sat on the edge of the bathtub.
“She’s right, of course. Ever since retirement, I’ve felt useless. It’s like the wind’s gone out of my sails. Everything just feels so dull, it’s enough to make you weep.”
“Ivan, everything alright?” Emily called gently from outside the bathroom.
“Fine, fine, coming now,” he replied.
Behind the door, little Alfie was shuffling his feet impatiently.
“Come on in!” Ivan ushered his grandson inside.
At the dinner table, Ivan grew quieter. He raised his glass half-heartedly during the toasts, sipping absently.
“Dad, you seem down. It’s a celebration—are you feeling poorly?” David asked as they prepared to leave. Standing in the hallway, Emily nudged her husband to say more.
“No, I’m fine, son. Bring the kids round during the holidays. Not planning a trip anywhere?” Ivan forced a smile.
“We’ve got the house renovations, Ivan. The kids will stay with my parents—already sorted,” Emily interjected.
“Right, if you’ve made arrangements,” Ivan sighed. “Good for the in-laws to have time with them.”
Emily whispered something to David.
“I’ll drop by Sunday with the groceries,” David said, heading for the door.
Margaret blinked in surprise.
“What groceries, love? The shops are just down the road. We’ve got plenty of veg—if we need anything, your dad can pop out.”
“Why bother, Margaret? David will bring everything. No need to lug bags up five flights—just relax,” Emily insisted.
Once they’d left, Margaret grumbled.
“Honestly, now we can’t see the grandkids, can’t even go shopping. What’s got into her?”
“Emily means well, love. She looks out for us—don’t take it to heart,” said Ivan.
“We’re not invalids, Ivan. Feels like they’ve written us off. And now we don’t even get the grandkids.”
“They’ll bring them round later. You heard—this time it’s her parents’ turn.”
Margaret fell silent.
*Maybe I’ve been too hard on her. She’s the one who visits most, always helping, always polite. The other in-laws just come for a meal and take jars of pickles. Don’t even get me started on the son-in-law.*
“Why so glum, Ivan?” Margaret turned to him.
“Just tired,” he dismissed.
“Oh. Well, rest up then. I’ll put the telly on,” she said, heading to the kitchen to tidy the dishes Emily had washed.
Ivan lay on the sofa, lost in thought.
*Couldn’t even lift Sophie for the star. What if she visits in summer and I can’t reach an apple for her? She’s still so small. Where’s my strength gone?*
Then and there, Ivan decided to get back in shape before summer. Not like he was twenty, but enough to lift his eldest granddaughter without straining.
And so it began. Daily walks without fail—a simple start. Dusted off old dumbbells under the bed. Lifting them felt good. Soon, he was at the park doing pull-ups beside teenagers.
Gradually, his strength returned. By summer, he’d cleared the shed clutter and built a play area for the grandkids—something fun for them all.
In August, when the plums ripened, David brought the children over. Sophie adored the little playground. Alfie loved it too. Ivan spent the whole day with them: games in the garden, a trip to the river, sandcastles.
The next morning, Alfie pointed at a plum.
“Grandad, get me that one?”
“Go on, Alfie—you can reach it!” Ivan chuckled, hoisting him up.
Alfie plucked three plums with tiny fingers.
“Me next, Grandad!” Sophie clapped.
“Up you go!” Ivan grinned, lifting her effortlessly. “Your grandad’s still got it!”
Never lose heart. Never give up while there’s still a chance. Cherish each day—life’s given just once.
