My children are well cared for, I have a bit put away, and I’ll soon be receiving my pension.
A few months back, my neighbour, George, was laid to rest. Wed known each other for over a decade, always living side by side. We werent just acquaintances, our families were friends, watching our children grow up together. George and Margaret had five kids. The parents worked hard to buy each of them their own home, especially George. He was a well-known mechanic in town, and there was always a long waiting list for his expertise. The owner of the local garage would almost pray for an experienced mechanic who could diagnose engine troubles just by listeninga true master of his trade.
Just before he passed, after his youngest daughter got married, George used to putter about on his scooter and took time to rest. His brisk walk had slowed to the steady shuffle typical of older gents. Hed only just turned fifty-nine that spring. He took some leave from work, saying his boss pleaded with him to come back in ten days so he wouldnt lose customers, but George wasnt planning on returning. The day before he was due to go back, he met with his managers to request a peaceful retirement, promising to pitch in now and then if they ever found themselves in a tight spot.
For some reason, he didnt mention anything to Margaret. And that morning, instead of getting ready for the garage, he stretched, rolled over and went right back to sleep. Margaret hurried in from the kitchen, where shed already started on breakfast, and threw up her hands.
So youre still asleep? Who did I make breakfast for then? Itll go cold!
Ill eat it cold, Im not going to work today.
What do you mean, youre not going to work? Theyre waiting for you, counting on you!
Im not going. I resigned yesterday.
Oh, stop messing about, Georgeget up!
Margaret jokingly whipped the duvet off him, but he didnt stirjust curled up and hid his face again.
Im tired, Maggie Ive run out of steam. Like an engine after its third overhaul The children are all sorted, Ive got a bit saved, its time I looked at my pension
Pension? The kids have got all sorts to dotheyve got home improvements, need new furniture, Olivias after a carwhos going to help them?
Theyll need to manage on their own now. You and I, thank goodness, did our bit for them
Later that morning, Margaret came to me, flustered, and recounted their conversation. She asked for advice, and I shared my thoughts about Georges recent changes:
Hes genuinely worn out, Maggie. If he says so himself, theres no point pushing him back to work. Let him have a proper restnot like a lad spending all day under cars tightening bolts. Just yesterday at dusk, I barely recognised him, he shuffled past like an old man, hunched, dragging his feet. When I realised it was George, I was shocked. He told me the same: Im just so tired
But Margaret brushed off my concern:
Hes just moping, its all for show! Ill get all the kids togethertheyll remind him how much there still is to do!
Maggie, you cant do that. How olds your eldest? Forty-five, is it? Hell be a grandfather soon himself. Let the children support you nowold age doesnt wait at the door.
My neighbour took offence and left.
A week later, all of George and Margarets children gathered at their home. They sat around a big table, the house buzzing with chatter, but tension hung in the air. Everyone knew there was a reason for this meeting, and it was more than just a family get-together.
Margaret called the meeting to order:
Our dad wants to retire. What do you thinklets talk it through. If he does, he wont be able to help us anymore, so well have to pull ourselves together
George interrupted:
Whats the fuss about? Just look at our broodfive of you, all working. Surely, you can support the two of us? We raised all five and not just raised, set you up so none of you are struggling. Im not complainingjust remembering how weve lived. Parents ought to help their children, thats true. But now, perhaps we need help ourselves, its hard for me to keep working, I dread having an accident down at the garage
After a pause, the eldest, Peter, spoke first. Instead of asking after his dad, he listed his own troubles, saying:
Im sorry, but we just dont have the money right now to help. Maybe in future
All the others joined in, each with their own dreams: a new house, a careach still expecting their parents help as always. No one seemed to think about how mum and dad managed those contributions.
At last, George rose and said sadly:
Well, if you all want me to keep working, then Ill carry on as long as Im able
The next day, Margaret came to see me again, almost picking up where we left off:
There you go, you said itchildren came, had their say and off they went, straight back to work. And hes still tired, tired. Im tired as wellwhat now?
George lasted three more days at the petrol station. The ambulance took him from the workshop. Nothing could be done for his worn-out heart, and the children came together again, this time for the funeral. Of course, we were there too, listening to their stories, recalling what a good man hed been to them and the grandchildren. I so badly wanted to ask, Why didnt you protect him when he asked you?
Such a sad tale befell our neighbour. Margaret lives alone now, pinching pennies where she can because her children have so many troubles of their ownIn the days after Georges passing, the neighbourhood grew quieter, almost as if it mourned with us. The garage owner left the doors open, hoping perhaps the familiar sound of Georges scooter would return, but it never did. Margaret, with shoulders heavy yet steady, started tending the front garden each morning, planting bright marigolds that seemed determined to thrive.
Life ambled on, children busy with their own worries, and Margaret found herself growing closer to the neighbours. Sometimes shed sit with me at my porch, hands clasped, and talk about the old dayshow George could fix a radio with a hairpin, how he made sure every birthday cake was shared between families, not just his own.
And then one evening, as the sun sank golden behind the rooftops, the eldest, Peter, dropped by unannounced. He lingered at the gate for a moment before coming in, his expression changed: softer, more fragile.
Mum, he said, I keep thinking what Dad wouldve said. We shouldve listened. He did everything for us, and we we never saw he was asking for help. Margaret just patted his hand. Its hard for us too, Peter, she whispered. But lets remember him, and lets do better by each other.
As summer rolled on, the family started coming by for Sunday dinners, helping Margaret with the house and sharing old laughterperhaps not out of obligation now, but love. Georges memory quietly reminded them: care for those who carried you, and when the time comes, carry them gently in return.
And so, the story of Georgethe mechanic, father, neighbourbecame not one of loss, but of a gentle turning. His lessons lingered in each heart, blooming every time someone, tired and worn, finally laid down their burdens and found they were not alone.
