**Diary Entry 12th November**
Winter is creeping in, and the thought of facing it alone fills me with dread. The heating bills are unbearable, and I havent the strength to chop firewood anymore. My daughter, Emily, visited last weekend to fetch my groceries, and I gathered the courage to ask: “Could I stay with you this winter? The gas prices are so high, and I cant manage the firewood.” But she just sighed and said, “Where, Mum? In my flat? Once I have a proper house, then Ill take you in.”
I wouldnt wish this loneliness on anyone.
Let me share my sorrow with you. I was widowed far too young, at 26. My husband, Thomas, left me with two little onesJames, just three, and Emily still a babe in arms. I gave them everything. Raising them alone meant juggling work, housekeeping, and even tending the garden. We lived in a village, but money was always tight. I mowed the lawn, split logs for the stovewhat choice did I have?
They grew up and moved awayLondon, Brighton, chasing their lives.
When I was younger, I kept up the cottage. When the grandchildren visited, theyd have fresh vegetables from the garden and warm milk. I scrimped from my pension to help my children, even when it meant going without.
But now, old age has stolen my strength. Winter is the hardest.
Emily came last weekend, and I asked her again: “Could I stay with you? The heating bills are too much, and I cant chop wood anymore.”
Her reply was the same: “Where, Mum? In my tiny flat? When I have a house, Ill take you in.”
When my legs finally gave out, the neighbours rang James. He said he was swampedhis mother-in-law was poorly, work was madno time to come.
In the end, it was my sister, Margaret, who came. She didnt hesitatebundled me into her car and took me home. If not for her, I dont know where Id be.
Months have passed. Neither James nor Emily has called.
When they needed me, I was there. Now? Forgotten.
What did I do wrong? When did my children grow so cold?
To anyone reading this: cherish your parents. No one else will love you so selflessly. No one.
