**Diary Entry – 10th October**
I still can’t fathom how a child could abandon their own mother.
This morning, I stepped into the garden and noticed an elderly woman sitting under the neighbour’s awning, hunched over on a little bench. She must have dozed off out in the fresh air. It struck me as odd—my neighbour, Mrs. Whitmore, had no living relatives. She and her late husband never had children, and he passed away last year after a long illness. Understandably, she’d been lonely, but she wasn’t so old that she couldn’t manage on her own. Still, it must have been hard, adjusting to solitude.
Curious, I went over to ask about the woman. The old lady was perfectly polite, though she barely spoke to me. Later, Mrs. Whitmore confided that the poor thing was terribly distressed. Her son had disowned her—Mrs. Elsie, she was called—and it was best not to trouble her further.
All her life, Mrs. Elsie had worked at the Royal Philharmonic. Her husband was a university professor, well-respected, though whispers followed him about his… *friendships* with students. She’d known, of course, but stayed silent for the sake of family.
Her only son and her work consumed her days. She even gave piano lessons at home.
Then the son grew up, graduated, married. A granddaughter came along, and Mrs. Elsie adored her. That’s when her husband left her—for another woman—though he refused a proper divorce.
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The son and his wife were busy building their business, so visits were rare, but they’d leave the granddaughter with her. Old age crept up suddenly. Then her husband returned, dumped by his mistress—only to find his wife had aged, and he couldn’t bear it. He still hoped to find someone younger.
By then, the son had a grand house of his own. His father begged him to take his mother in. The son agreed—his daughter loved her grandmother, after all. His wife, however…
She refused to have “some old woman” under her roof. At first, the son argued—it was his *mother*, for heaven’s sake—so he insisted she’d live with them.
Fine. But only if his father signed the flat over to their daughter. Just in case he remarried and they lost the inheritance.
To keep the peace, the son convinced his father, who promised to transfer the deed.
So Mrs. Elsie moved in. It should’ve been pleasant—country air, family nearby. Her husband didn’t grieve long; another mistress soon took his fancy, though he never divorced.
The wife, though… she was wretched to her mother-in-law. She’d shout, even raise her hand. Mrs. Elsie never complained. Then the granddaughter started copying her mother’s cruelty. One day, Mrs. Elsie broke down and demanded to go home.
The son rang his father, but he flatly refused—he was living with someone else now. His wife and daughter insisted the grandmother stay elsewhere. So he decided to take her to a care home.
Mrs. Whitmore found out. As it turned out, she’d known Mrs. Elsie for years. She couldn’t stand the thought of her in that place, so she offered to take her in instead. The son promised monthly support and asked her to call often.
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He brought his mother over. The arrangements seemed decent enough. He vowed to visit regularly. Well… we’ll see. It’s a sad truth—sometimes, those who should care for their own won’t, and strangers must step in. Where else was she to go?
Life has a way of coming full circle. What you give is what you’ll receive. Look after your parents. Be kind. Be human. Before it’s too late.
