My Brother Refuses to Put Mum in a Care Home and Won’t Take Her to Live with Him – He Says There’s No Room!

Author Wanda MirandaReading 5 minViews 3

My brother refuses to put Mum in a care home, and he wont let her live with himtheres simply no room!

For the past three months, I’ve been locking horns with my brother over Mum. Ever since her stroke, nothings been the same. Shes forgetful to the point of wandering off, she always needs someone by her side. She requires constant care. All of it has fallen to me. Its as if Ive become the parent to a young child again. I have a job, a house, my own family to look after. How am I supposed to stretch myself so thin? I suggested a residential home, but my brother was outraged, calling me heartless. Yet he wont bring her to his place, either. He lives in his wifes flat, after all.

We used to be a close-knit familyjust your typical group of four. My brother, Adam, and metheres only a year between us. Our parents had us late in life. Im 36 now; Adams 35. Mum is 72. Everything ran smoothly until Dad passed away.

Once Dad died, Adam went off to university in Manchester and stayed there. He got married. I remained in Norwich, our hometown. I lived with Mum for a while, but after marrying Michael, we decided to rent our own flat, planning to buy a house one day and raise children. That was the idea.

Two years ago, Dad died, and Mum trailed into a lonely sort of sadness, missing him so much she seemed to age overnight. Her health deteriorated, and then, six months ago, the stroke struck. We thought we were going to lose her. Her speech was muddled, and her limbs wouldnt work as they should. Later, her movement returned, but her mind… not so much.

The doctors say theres no reversing it now. So, naturally, I had to become her lifeline. Michael and I packed up and moved into Mums house. I switched careers, became a freelancer just to stay nearby. We couldn’t leave her on her own. Even after she could walk again, it was never easy.

She muttered nonsense, got lost, slipped away before we knew it. Wed run after her, trying to herd her home, while she sobbed and called for Dad, insisting he was waiting for her somewhere. It was, frankly, a circus. I can’t sleep properly. I’m always scared shell wander off while Im not looking. My work is, well, barely hanging together. I can’t focus on anything too long. Michael suggested a home.

Its terribly expensive, but if we manage the money right, we’d afford itabout £1,300 a month. Michael said, “Youve got a brother too. He should chip in. It’s only fair.”

I hesitated for ages, but eventually saw sense. How long can this go on? Mum needs round-the-clock supervision and qualified nurses. I visited the care home, looked into everything. Costly, yesbut what choices remain?

So, I rang Adam and told him. I hoped hed be reasonable, see things clearly. No chance. He just erupted.

“Are you off your rocker? You cant send your own mother to a care home! Everyone theres a stranger. Who knows how shell be treated? You have no heart!” he bellowed down the phone. “Or maybe you just want her out of your way!”

I tried to explain, but he wouldnt have it. I kept caring for Mum. Until I started realising I was running out of strength. I brought it up again with Adam. His stance hadnt budged.

“I couldn’t do that to our Mum,” he insisted. “She raised us, educated us, housed us. She never complained about the trouble we caused her. We owe herboth of usnot just you.”

But if he wont agree, why should only I shoulder this? If my solutions so cruel to him, let him come and take Mum. He can show her all the kindness he likes.

“You know I live with my wife in her flat. How am I supposed to ask her to look after my mother-in-law?”

“So Michael can care for his mother-in-law, but your wife cant?”

“You two are already living with Mum. So, he helps out.”

I told Adam, “I could leave nowyou and your wife could move in.” Adam balked, moaning about his work and how he cant be distracted. He says I just want rid of my responsibilities.

It feels like stumbling through a nightmare. On one hand, I know sending Mum to the care home would free us all; on the other, I fear Ill be branded a disgraceful daughter. Michael supports me. He says that’s what the homes for, and we have our own lives too.

Ive decided to wait another week. If Adam doesnt show his face, Ill go ahead. It will be better for everyone. Ill place Mum in the home. After all, its easy for everyone to chime in with advice, but only I know what it is to care for someone so ill. Im sick of Adam and his endless excuseshe can try them on his mates if he likes. Im done.

The Homeless Stranger Nina had nowhere left to turn. With no roof over her head, she spent a few nights at the train station, unsure of her next move. Suddenly, she remembered her family’s old country cottage—more a dilapidated hut than a home, but surely better than the station benches. Boarding the commuter train, Nina pressed her face to the chilly window as waves of painful memories washed over her. Two years before, she had lost her parents, forced to leave university and take a job on the local market. Life’s luck seemed to turn when she met Tim, a kind, decent man. Within a few months, they wed in a modest ceremony. Yet happiness was short-lived. Tim convinced her to sell her inherited London flat to start a business—but the dream quickly collapsed. Their marriage spiraled, and one day Tim brought home another woman, asking Nina to leave. Homeless again, Nina almost went to the police—but realized she’d handed over her flat willingly. Now, standing alone on a deserted platform in early spring, she made her way through the overgrown plot to the cottage. The front door refused to budge, and defeated, Nina sat on the porch and wept. Suddenly, from next door came smoke and the clatter of pans. Hoping to find familiar faces, she called out—only to find an unkempt elderly man by the fire. “Don’t call the police,” he said gently. “I don’t trouble anyone; I just camp here outdoors.” Despite his appearance, his cultured baritone gave him away as a learned man. “Are you homeless?” Nina asked. He nodded, introducing himself as Michael. With her own struggles, Nina found comfort in company. As Michael helped her with the door, the two realised they had more in common than homelessness. Sharing a simple meal, Michael told how he’d been tricked out of his London flat by a scheming niece, left with nothing. In time, the unlikely pair formed their own improvised family—Nina returning to her studies with Michael’s help and Michael finding kinship and a home again. Two years later, over tea and cake in the cottage warmed by laughter, Nina and Michael looked out at the grapevine he’d just planted, grateful for a new beginning—and for the unexpected family they’d both been searching for.

The Homeless Stranger Nina had nowhere left to go—truly nowhere. “A couple of nights at the train station, maybe. And then?” she thought anxiously. Suddenly, a saving thought struck her: “The allotment! How could I have forgotten? Although… ‘allotment’ is a stretch. More like a half-collapsed old shed. Still, better to go there than the station.” Settling into a commuter train, Nina pressed her head to the cold window and closed her eyes, heavy memories threatening to overwhelm her: two years ago, she lost both parents, left alone without support. With no way to pay for university, she dropped out and got a job at the local market. After all she’d endured, fortune finally smiled on Nina, and soon she met her true love. Tim was kind and decent. Within two months, they had a modest wedding. Life seemed like it should finally go right… but fate had another test in store. Tim suggested they sell Nina’s late parents’ city-centre flat and start a business. He painted such an attractive picture Nina had no doubts—she handed everything over, dreaming that soon they’d be financially secure, maybe even start a family. “If we get back on our feet, we can think about having a baby. I’m longing to be a mum,” she dreamed. But Tim’s business failed. Frequent rows over the lost money quickly tore the couple apart. Eventually, Tim brought home another woman and told Nina to leave. At first, Nina thought about calling the police, but realised there was nothing to accuse her husband of: she’d sold the flat and handed him the cash herself… *** Arriving at the quiet country station, Nina trudged down the deserted platform. Early spring was in the air, but the garden plots were still abandoned. After three years, her family’s little allotment was totally overgrown. “That’s alright, I’ll sort things out. It’ll be just like it was,” she told herself—though she realised nothing could ever truly be the same. She found the old key under the porch, but the sagging wooden door wouldn’t budge. After failing to open it, Nina slumped on the steps and burst into tears. Just then, she spotted smoke and heard noise from the neighbouring plot. Delighted that neighbours were there, Nina rushed over. “Auntie Rae, are you home?” she called. Instead, a scruffy elderly man appeared in the yard, tending a small fire beneath a battered pot. “Who are you? Where’s Auntie Rae?” Nina asked, stumbling back. “Don’t be afraid. Please, don’t call the police. I’m not doing any harm—just staying out here in the garden, not in the house,” he replied in a surprisingly cultured baritone, the voice of an educated man. “Are you homeless?” Nina asked bluntly. “Yes, you’re right,” the man answered softly, looking away. “Do you live nearby? Don’t worry, I won’t trouble you.” “What’s your name?” “Michael.” “Do you have a last name?” “Middle name? Fedorovich,” he replied, surprised. Nina took in Michael Fedorovich: though his clothes were worn, they were clean enough. The man appeared reasonably tidy and well-kept. “I don’t know who to ask for help…” Nina sighed. “What’s happened?” asked the man kindly. “The door’s stuck… I can’t open it.” “Let me take a look,” the homeless man offered. “I’d be grateful,” she said, desperate. As Michael worked on the door, Nina watched and reflected: “Who am I to judge? We’re both homeless—we have more in common than I thought…” “Nina, you’re all set!” Michael said with a smile, pushing the door open. “Wait—are you planning to stay here overnight?” “Well, yes—where else am I meant to go?” “Does the place have heating?” “There’s a stove—I think,” Nina replied uncertainly, realising how little she knew. “And firewood?” “I don’t know,” she mumbled. “It’s alright. Go inside. I’ll figure something out,” Michael said decisively. Nina cleaned for about an hour, feeling cold and discouraged. But Michael soon returned with firewood—and to her surprise, she was glad not to be completely alone. Michael got the old stove working. Soon, the cottage was warm. “There you are,” he explained, “just keep adding a little wood as needed. At night, let it die down—the warmth will last.” “And where will you go? The neighbours’?” “Yes. Don’t judge too harshly—I’ll stay on their allotment for a bit. Don’t want to go back to the city or stir up old memories.” “Stay for dinner and a cup of hot tea before you go,” Nina said resolutely. The old man agreed, sitting by the stove while Nina made tea. “Sorry if this is too personal,” she began, “but you don’t seem like the sort of man to end up on the street. What happened?” Michael shared his story: he had been a university lecturer all his life, devoted to research and teaching. Old age and loneliness crept up silently. A year ago, his niece began visiting, promising to look after him if he left his flat to her. Eager for family, he agreed. She convinced him to sell his small city flat for a country house—something she’d ‘already found’—and to deposit the money at the bank. At the bank, she slipped in alone with his bag, and simply didn’t return. When he went to her former home, a stranger answered: his niece had sold up and left months ago. “So that’s my sad tale,” Michael finished. “Since then, I’ve lived rough—I still can’t believe I have no home.” “I thought I was the only one with such luck…,” Nina replied, and told her own story. “Not great, is it? At least I’ve had a life. You’re young, everything’s ahead of you,” he encouraged. “Enough sorrow,” Nina smiled, “let’s have dinner!” She watched him eat, feeling a surge of pity for his loneliness. “How awful, to end up with no one, alone on the streets,” she thought. “Nina, I could help you get back into university. I have friends there—you could study on a scholarship,” Michael offered. “I can’t meet my old colleagues as I am, but I’ll write a letter to the dean—an old friend. He’ll help you.” “Thank you, I’d be so grateful!” “Thank you for supper—and for listening,” Michael said, rising to leave. “Wait. Please don’t go. It’s not right for you to sleep outside. I’ve got three rooms—pick whichever you like. Honestly, I’m scared to stay here on my own, and I don’t know the first thing about this place… Will you stay?” “I will. I won’t leave you alone,” Michael replied, seriously. *** Two years passed… Nina passed her exams and travelled home for her summer break. She still lived part-time at the cottage, while spending term-time at the student halls. “Hello!” she called joyfully, hugging Grandpa Michael. “Nina, my dear! Why didn’t you call? I’d have met you at the station. Did you pass?” Michael asked. “Almost all distinctions!” she beamed. “I bought cake—put the kettle on, let’s celebrate!” They drank tea together and Michael shared his garden plans. “I’ve planted a grapevine—going to build a little summerhouse. It’ll be nice and cosy,” he chatted. “Brilliant. You’re the boss here, do what you like! Me, I’m just visiting,” Nina laughed. Michael Fedorovich was a new man now—no longer alone. He had a home, and a granddaughter in Nina. And Nina, too, had found family—a grandfather who saved her in dark times. She was grateful fate had sent her Grandpa Michael, who became her strength, family, and friend.