When I was seventeen, my dad passed away. My mum was working her socks off, juggling two jobs, but we barely scraped by. We pinched pennies any way we could honestly, fruit and sweets were a treat only saved for Christmas. I never had the courage to ask Mum for anything. So, I tried to earn my own keep. There’s my little sister too, and Mum and I always did our best so she wouldn’t feel left out or lesser.
Sadly, losing my dad wasnt the end of our troubles. Not long after, Mum had a stroke and landed in hospital. Shes never been able to walk again. She got disability benefits but, lets face it, those didnt stretch far. It was tough, but I kept hoping things would brighten up.
I had to drop out of uni, since I became the breadwinner. Taking care of Mum and my sister felt impossible at times. Loads of people offered help, but I always turned them down. Before the stroke, Mum was lovely always kind and honest, but after she changed.
She started complaining about her bad luck, then blamed my sister and me for just about everything. Dinner wasnt cooked properly, the house wasnt tidy enough, or wed spent too much money on ourselves.
I tried not to let it get to me. I knew she was ill, so I tried to be understanding. Still, it hurt. Here I was, doing everything for her, and she barely noticed. Friends kept urging me to get a nurse for Mum and find a new job. There were jobs where I could earn more, but then I wouldnt be there for her. I mean, Mum has two daughters how could I leave her with some stranger? I just couldnt bring myself to do it.
Mums complaints only got worse. She scolded us for any purchases, even though we were careful with every penny.
I kept quiet and was patient for ages, until one day, something happened that changed how I felt about Mum forever.
I fell ill awful headache, fever, coughing. I barely slept that night and decided to see the GP in the morning. My sister saw how bad I looked, packed up for school, gave me a hug, and begged me not to put off visiting the doctor. Mum, as usual, told me I didnt need any treatment that Id get over it on my own, and reminded me she was so much worse off. She said spending money on tests and consultations would be wasted, and accused me of neglecting her and wanting her gone.
I listened to all of it in silence and, honestly, I started crying. I felt totally spent. Id left uni and taken on hard work for her sake, even though I had so many other opportunities. I think Id hit my limit I snapped and told Mum exactly how I felt.
The doctor found I had pneumonia. He insisted I go to hospital, but that wasnt an option for me. I couldnt leave my sister alone with Mum. So, I bought my meds and went over to my friends place.
Emily welcomed me right in. She gave me an earful about wandering around instead of resting in bed under a duvet, then we talked for hours. I told her all the stuff with Mum and asked if she could help me find a nurse. I needed somewhere to stay too I just couldnt live at home any more.
Emily offered her spare room and said I could go back to grab my essentials.
At home, Mum was waiting, shouting her head off the moment I walked through the door. She didnt ask if I was okay just counted money again. I fed her, then headed to my room to rest. I’ve made up my mind. I wouldnt live there anymore.
Emily sorted everything quickly she found a nurse and let me stay with her. I switched jobs and stopped visiting Mum. Maybe I seem callous, but I honestly did everything I could. And I never heard a thank you. Was it all worth it? I guess time will tell.
Each month I send money for Mums expenses and the nurses wages more than enough, actually. Victoria, the nurse, says Mum remembers us less and less now. She never sends birthday wishes, though my sister and I always remember hers. But that isnt what matters most. I managed to change jobs, and soon Ill move out of Emilys flat. My sister and I are planning to rent a small place together. She backs me up and always says, You should look after your parents but not when they slowly eat you away.We never stopped loving Mum, but sometimes love means knowing when to save yourself. Now, as my sister and I step out into our own lives, we carry scars but also hope. Our new flat is tiny, but laughter bounces off the walls. On Mum’s birthday, we light a candle and remember the good yearsher gentle hands, her warm smile, the way she used to tuck us in at night. Grief doesnt fade, but it makes room for new beginnings.
I still wake up some mornings wondering if I did the right thing. But then my sister brews the morning tea, grinning about school, and I realize that choosing ourselves wasnt selfishit was survival. We were never meant to carry the world alone.
Maybe, one day, Mum will remember us again. Maybe she wont. But we live, we grow, and quietly, we forgive. The cycle of hardship gave way to small joysa shared meal, a borrowed book, a sunrise through dusty windowsand I know now, life isnt about what we lose, but how we find ourselves again.
And so, we keep goingtogetherinto a future bright with possibility, where kindness means loving ourselves as fiercely as we once tried to save her.
