At sixty-five, the realisation struck like a cold wind: our children no longer needed us. For the first time in my life, I faced the truthmy husband and I had poured everything into our three children, only to be left behind. They had taken our time, our energy, our savings, and now they were gone. My son, James, wont even pick up the phone when I ring. Some nights, I lie awake wonderingwill any of them even think to bring us a cup of tea when were too frail to make it ourselves?
I married Thomas at twenty-five. Hed been my schoolmate, chasing after me since we were teenagers, even following me to university. A year after our simple wedding, I fell pregnant, and our daughter Charlotte arrived. Thomas dropped out to work while I took a break from my studies.
Those years were tough. He worked himself to the bone, and I juggled motherhood with finishing my degree. Two years later, another baby came. I switched to evening classes, and Thomas took on extra shifts. Somehow, we raised two childrenCharlotte, our eldest, and James, our boy. When Charlotte started school, I finally landed a proper job. Life eased a littleThomas had a steady position by then, and we bought our first house. Just as we caught our breath, I found out I was expecting again.
Our youngest, Eleanor, arrived, and the struggle began anew. Thomas worked longer hours; I gave up my job to care for her. It felt endless, but bit by bit, we found our footing again. When Eleanor started primary school, I thought, at last, we could breathe.
But life had other plans. Charlotte, barely into university, announced her engagement. We didnt stop herwed married young too. The wedding cost a fortune, and helping them buy a flat drained our savings.
Then James wanted his own place. How could we refuse? We took out another mortgage, bought him a flat in Manchester. Luckily, he landed a good job straight after.
Eleanor, in her final year at school, told us she wanted to study in America. It nearly broke us, but we scraped together the tuition. She left, and the house fell silent.
Now, the visits grew fewer. Charlotte, though she lived just an hour away, barely called. James moved to London and forgot the way home. Eleanor stayed abroad after graduation.
We gave them everythingour youth, our money, our loveand in return, we became ghosts in their lives. We dont ask for money, just a word, a visit, a sign they remember us.
But perhaps its time to stop waiting. Maybe, at sixty-five, weve earned the right to live for ourselvesto find the happiness we always put last.
