Gran Gran has just turned eighty. Just a week ago, she kicked my older brother and his wife out of her flat. Ever since that rather dramatic episode, shes barely spoken to anyone. Whenever I ring to say wed like to pop by, she abruptly hangs up the phone. She wont even open the door to anyone these days.
No ones quite sure why my brother moved into a rented flat elsewhere, and he isnt exactly forthcoming about it. Honestly, I wasnt all that surprised Gran Gran sent him packing; hes never been what youd call responsible, and he certainly enjoyed his comforts without doing much in return.
As soon as Gran Gran settled into her solitary routine and her flat became noticeably emptier, the family arranged an emergency council in Dads sisters lounge. Gran Gran, of course, didnt attend. The only agenda, but an important one: how on earth could she manage living alone at her age?
Dads elder sister, Aunt Linda, had the brilliant idea that her thirty-year-old, still jobless daughter could move in with Gran Gran and look after her. The rest of us couldnt help but remember that Jane has a reputation for being, well, a bit scatterbrained and not exactly fussed about family duties.
Meanwhile, Dads younger sister suggested downsizing Gran Gran to a tiny bedsit to save a bit of money. She said, The youngsters have moved in; how can she possibly afford the rent on such a roomy place?
Uncle Stephen volunteered to take Gran Gran in himself, freeing up the flat for his son. There was logic in it: its no easy feat to live alone at eighty. Let the younger generation fend for themselves, everyone said, and all the offers of so-called help were dressed up as deep concern for Gran Grans welfare.
Im worried about my mother, Uncle Stephen kept insisting. This way shell be in safe and caring hands!
Gran Gran had already lived with one of Uncle Stephen’s sons, and now he wanted to install another. Dad, wisely for once, said Gran Gran should decide for herself how she wanted to live, but the family scoffed at that.
Aunt Linda proved the most persistent, so everyone agreed Jane would be the official new caretaker. Jane immediately started packing her bags, and Gran Gran received a curt phone call informing her of this family decision. Gran Gran, never slow on the uptake, put the phone down on them.
Jane turned up at the flat, daydreaming en route about redecorating the place. But Gran Gran refused to let her in. She did, however, leave a jar of homemade chutney outside the door as a reluctant sort of peace offering.
How can she live all by herself? Jane fumed, flustered. Shes claiming shes never really lived in her eighty years, and suddenly now she wants to do it alone! Who knows what could happen? What if she gets ill? Living alone at that age simply isnt safe!
Gran Gran doesnt think about anyone else! Shes always lived with someonefirst her parents, then Grandpa, then her children, her grandchildren… Now suddenly she wants peace and quietand in a three-bedroom flat, no less! Its ridiculous! She should make room for the younger lot.
Dad had the only reasonable approach, I thought. He wasnt a fan of moving Gran Gran out, but agreed she couldnt be left entirely on her own. The sisters had a point; anything could happen. None of us even have a key anymoreGran Gran changed the locks once shed thrown my brother out. At her age, every day brings some unpredictability.
With Mums approval, Dad decided to install a camera in the hallway of Gran Grans flat. Now, anyone worried could check in and see her pottering about, safe and sound. Gran Gran, spotting the camera, took to pulling faces at it as she went past.
She insisted on managing her own utility bills, proud that her modest lifestyle kept costs down. She outright refused anyones help as long as we all left her in peace. Everyone grudgingly accepted the arrangement. In that way, a bit of modern tech granted Gran Gran the freedom from unwanted visitors she so craved.
So, alls well that ends well, I suppose. That said, Gran Gran still wont let anybody in, not even for a cup of tea. Yesterday, I went over and had to pick up a jar of jam shed left on the landing for me. Clearly, shes still nervous someone might steal away her independence. I just wish, more than anything, that shed let herself relax a little and enjoy some company again.
