What new nonsense is this? What care home? Absolutely not! Im not going anywhere, not from my own home!
June 14th It was the day Lily, the village postwoman, was to be married. Oh, what a wedding not a celebration
Dear Diary, I remember that chilly March evening when everything changed. I’d pleaded with Mum
Bit by bit, we managed to get running water to her house and eventually gas as well. Then we added all
After Turning Seventy, She Felt Forgotten—Even Her Own Son and Daughter Didn’t Wish Her a Happy Birthday
Lydia sat alone on a hospital bench, tears streaming down her face. It was her seventieth birthday, but not a single birthday wish came from her children. Only her roommate congratulated her, offering a humble gift, and Nurse Katie brought her an apple in honour of her special day. The hospital was pleasant enough, but the staff seemed indifferent.
It was clear to everyone why so many elderly people ended up here—children bringing their parents when they became “inconvenient.” Lydia’s own son brought her, claiming she needed rest to recover, but she knew deep down she had simply become a burden to his wife.
Lydia once owned a flat, but her son pressured her into transferring ownership. Before she signed the documents he promised she would keep living there as she always had. In reality, the whole family moved in, and Lydia clashed constantly with her daughter-in-law.
Her daughter-in-law was always finding fault—complaining that her borscht was bland, that there was a puddle in the bathroom, and more. At first, her son stood up for her, but soon enough he stopped, and began raising his voice at her. Lydia noticed her son and his wife whispering conspiratorially.
Then the hints began—maybe a rest and some recuperation would do her good. Eventually, Lydia confronted her son:
“Have you really decided to send me to a care home?”
He blushed, lowered his eyes, and mumbled:
“Mum, please don’t start, it’s just a health resort—go for a month, get your strength back, then you can come home.”
He brought her here, signed a few forms, promised to visit soon, then left. She’s now been here for two years.
She called her son, but a strange man answered, saying her son had sold the flat. She never found out where he’d gone. At first, she spent countless nights crying—the moment they brought her here, she knew she’d never see home again. And worst of all, she deeply regretted the way she’d once hurt her own daughter for her son’s sake.
Lydia grew up in the countryside, where her family ran a large house and smallholding. One day, a neighbour convinced her husband city life was better, with good wages and comfortable living. Her husband loved the idea so much that they soon sold everything and moved to the city. Life was easier at first, with a new flat, furniture, even a battered old car—until her husband was killed in a crash.
Lydia was left alone with two children. To provide for them, she scrubbed the stairwells in the evenings. She hoped that one day, her children would help her—but that day never came.
Her son got into trouble, forcing her to borrow large sums to keep him out of jail. Her daughter married, had a son, and seemed happy—until her grandson grew ill. Her daughter quit her job to care for him, while doctors struggled to provide a diagnosis.
In time, a rare disease was found, treatable only in a single specialist hospital with a long waiting list. While seeking help, her daughter’s husband left. At the hospital, she met a widower whose daughter suffered the same illness. They moved in together.
Four years later, the daughter’s new husband needed an expensive operation and asked Lydia for a loan. Lydia said no—she’d been saving everything for her son’s first mortgage payment. Her daughter was hurt, declared she no longer had a mother, and hasn’t spoken to her for eleven years.
Back in the present, Lydia got up and slowly made her way inside—when suddenly she heard:
“Mum!”
Her heart leapt as she turned and saw her daughter. Suddenly her legs nearly gave way, and her daughter caught her.
“I’ve been searching for you for so long. My brother refused to give me your address until I threatened legal action for the illegal sale of your flat. Mum, I’m so sorry it’s taken me so long to visit. At first, I was furious with you, and then I kept putting it off—but mostly, I was ashamed. A few weeks ago, I had a dream where you were wandering through the woods, crying. I woke up feeling awful and told my husband, who insisted I find you and make amends. When I went to your flat, strangers answered the door, and I had to hunt my brother down. We have a big house by the sea—my husband says you must come and live with us.”
Lydia hugged her daughter tightly and broke down in tears—this time, tears of joy streaming down her cheeks. Margaret sat on a creaky bench under the shabby chestnut trees in the NHS hospitals tiny park, dabbing
I had to install a fridge of my own, says Emily. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I saw no other way.
Hey love, youve got to hear the wild story from Aunt Margarets cottage down in the Cotswolds.
“I had to get my own fridge,” says Emily, exasperation etched across her face. “
After saying that, do I really have to sit here, pretend everythings fine and keep smiling?
Youre the older brother, so its your sacred duty to help your younger sister. You have two flatsgive
