Oh, I couldnt do it. Watching someone become just a shadow of themselves. It would drive me mad, dealing with someone bedridden and helpless! They ought to be put somewhere better suited. Dont look at me like that! Why pretend otherwise? Animals are put down and no one bats an eyelid. But we like to call ourselves so compassionate, dont we? In some far-off place, they just take the elderly up a hill and leave them there. Or so I heard Annabelle started, but Sarah cut her off sharply,
Annie, have a bit of shame! Thats our mum youre talking about! Taking her to a hill? Youve lost your mind.
Well, firstly, shes not our mum, shes your mumshes my husbands mother, thats a big difference, admit it. And even if she were mine, I couldnt do it either, once she got like this. Look, caring for babies is one thing, theyre sweet, arent they? But an adult totally helpless? No hope? Sorry, but they smellI mean, its horrible! And, while were on the subject, whats happening to her flat now shes moved in with you? Its just empty, sitting there. I think we should sell it before house prices drop. You know Charlie needs money for university and Peter wants to get married. We could actually use the place a lot more than she could now. You had your daughter late, when will she even grow up? You could just do the decent thing, step aside for your brother and
Sarah! Where are you, darling? came a feeble voice from the bedroom.
You should go, Annie. Mums woken up, Sarah said, propelling her sister-in-law out of the hallway.
Sarahs head was pounding. For three straight nights her mother hadnt slept, and she hadnt rested eithernerves frayed, caught on worry: Did she hear us talking? God, I hope not.
She stepped into the haze of her mothers room. The air was thick, stifling. She opened a window, even though Mum always said she was cold. Sarah wrapped her in a woolly shawl as usual. The old woman turned her head at the sound, struggled upright, smoothed her hair. Sarah caught sight of her hands, broad and worn, yet fragile at the wrists; veins like blue ribbons. Mums eyes stared, vacant and unfocused. She couldnt seea specialist said there might be a slim chance sight could return in one eye, but Sarah no longer believed it. She changed the bedding, tidied up, fed her mother, who curled up and drifted asleep. Sarah dashed outshe needed advice from the GP. Couldnt bear the burden alone much longer.
Long minutes passed in the doctors surgery. Sarah poured out her troubles: no improvement, all hope fading. The GP, neat beard, busy filling in forms, raised tired eyes.
Heavy workload, is it, Doctor? Not enough of you to go round, I shouldnt wonder, she mumbled.
Theres never enough of us, no. If I had a magic bottle and could give everyone just one thing, my waiting room wouldnt look like this, nor would the world, he smiled, almost kindly.
What thing? Is it possible to get it? Sarah seized on any hint of a solution.
Youth, he said gravely, folding his glasses. Why the long face? Thats how it is. Youre tiredany fool can see thatbut let me ask: did your mum ever moan like this? When you were small and ill? Did she ever complain about you?
Sarah gulped. Her memories crashed over her: at eight years old, flush with fever, Mum cradling her, soothing her, bringing hot lemon tea and searching half the night for cranberries to make cordial, somehow returning home through the snow just to see her better come morning. Mum then rushed off to work, always doing two, sometimes three jobs so Sarah could have the best of everything.
One winter, they stood outside a department store; a silver dress shimmered in the window. Mum gazed at it longingly, before shaking herself, stroking Sarahs cheek, and moving on to buy her a proper coat and shoes. Mum never had anything herself. Then there was the pink-and-white cakesmall but beautiful, a rare treat in hard times. Sarah ate almost all of it; Mum only had a scrap of icing, but hugged her close, whispering, Its all right, love; Ill get you another one someday.
Children forget how much strength and life their parents poured into them, the doctors voice cut through the haze. Werent you once small, helpless? Your mother survived for you. Now she is the one who needs youand youwhat, exactly? I get it, youre exhausted. But just think for a minute, dear. Suppose your mother were gone, youd have spare timeno more waking up at night, no more care. Would you be truly happy then? His tone was clipped, almost cold.
Sarahs cheeks burned. No no, I well do what you advise. Sorry, Ill come back later! she stammered, stumbling from his office.
Rain misted her face as she wandered. She didnt care. She barely noticed the puddles, or her brother Tom ringing her phone.
Whats the matter? Annies already been whining. You want the flat? Have it, all of youtake everything, I don’t care anymore! Mum loves you so much. Shes always asking after you and Charlie, and where were you when you were sick for three months? Who looked after you then? Mum did! She raised both of us on her own! Sarah hung up, tears streaming down her face.
She wandered into a shop, still dazedthen saw it in the window: a dress exactly like the one from long ago. Her heart leaped. She strode to the mannequin.
Theres only this size left, the assistant whispered nervously. It wont fit you, Im afraid, madam.
I know! But wrap it up, pleaseits for my mum. Shes still got the figure. It wont fit me, not anymore, Sarah sniffed, smiling through tears.
The girl looked at her in confusion. Sarah also bought a cream-and-pink cakethe same kind from childhood. Mum wouldnt see it, but shed tell her about it anyway, paint her a story.
She dashed up the stairs, breathless, arms full. Inside, her daughter Emily was singing, gently stroking her grandmothers hair. Mum was smiling, couldnt see, but still smiled.
Sarahs home. Have a rest, love, youre run ragged, arent you? Ive been such a burden, Mum muttered, reaching for her daughters hand, blindly.
Sarah choked back tears. Trials comeisnt that life? Not everyone manages with grace; shed almost failed.
Mum! she whispered, burying her face in those dear, work-worn hands.
That was itthat childhood safety, always waiting. No matter how old you areten, twenty, forty, sixtyyour parents are your foundation. If you lose them, suddenly, youre orphaned, no matter your age.
Mum, I got you the dress. The silvery one, just like in the window all those years ago. And the cake, too. Well dress you up and have a proper tea. Youll look beautiful! Sarah slowly brushed out her mothers hair.
Mum shyly fingered the dress, grinning. Emily fetched some perfume, dabbed lipstick on her Nan, and put the kettle on.
They laughed and reminisced. Sarah looked at her mother, marvelling at how beautiful she wasgentle, serene. Faces like that are rare now, soon to vanish with her generation. Her mother had never moaned, never uttered one word of complaint, not even at her worst.
Then a knock at the door: Tom stood there with a bunch of flowers and, of all things, a pineapple.
What on earths the pineapple for, Tom? Sarah called, shaking her head.
Mum always wanted one, ages back when I was a kid. We never had the money. Ill bring her one every day if you want. Forget Annie, shes a nightmare. Mums the most important thing. If her health improves, well get her settled somewhere comfortable. Anyway, well still come round for tea and pies! Tom grinned, holding out the flowers.
He fussed over Mums new dress, making her laugh. For a moment, she seemed perfectly well.
After that, Sarahs days shifted. Fear struck her, sharp, at the thought of losing Mumbut now she clung fiercely to every moment, fighting for each day together.
Shed whisper as she brushed her mothers hair, “Just stay with us, however you can. Just be here. Thats all we need. She banished despair from their home, always smilingfor Mums sake, telling silly stories, promising that soon, soon everything would be better, and turning each day into a little celebration. She and Emily would blow up balloons, sing karaokeMum loved to sing, and soon she was joining in herself, her voice familiar, warm, and strong.
One day, Mum asked, Youre wearing something yellow today, arent you?
Sarah dropped her cloth in amazementshe was, in fact, wearing a yellow dress dotted with little flowers.
You can see? Oh thank GodMum, youre seeing again! she cried, racing to hug her.
Bit by bit, with a helping hand along the wall, her mother began to walk again. The joy of it eclipsed everything. No chance shed ever move Mum back to a lonely old flat. Theyd stay togetherthree generations of women.
Its us girls nowme, you, and Emily. Still so much I have to learn from you. You still have to teach me to bake like you doI always burn my pies! Tom says hell drop by too, Sarah giggled, kissing her mothers brow.
Tom came round soon after, big and strong, nearly two metres tall. Mum called him my little bear, hoisting her into the garden on his arms, proudly settling her on the bench in her new coat and hat, looking like a doll.
For the first time, Sarah felt a quiet peace. One step at a timeanythings possible, so long as Mum is here. Her heartbeats are sunlight and waterlike a flower, her family cant survive without her.
What more could she wish for? Only this: let mothers hearts go on beating, let their children bring them more surprisesflowers on rainy days, a dress with nowhere to wear it, no matter how old they get. And always, always, the words that matter most, said while theres still time,
I love you, Mum. Please stay with me. Youre the best thing in my life.Mum squeezed her hand tight, her voice barely more than a whisper but bright with laughter, I never left, love. I was always here, even before you called.
And as evening settled gently over their little home, the windows glowing golden against the gathering dusk, Sarah sat between her mother and her daughter, the three of them sharing cake and song. Somewhere outside, the world spun onbrisk and indifferentbut inside, time slowed, all sorrow and sharpness softened in the warmth of old love.
Later, as Emily drifted off curled beside her grandmother, Sarah watched her mothers peaceful face and felt a quiet strength settle in her bones. Life would bring storms again, but tonight their roots held fastwoven from kindness given, and given again. Nothing, not years or weariness or gentle blindness, could ever truly take her mother from her.
A breeze moved the curtains, and the sweet, familiar scent of cranberries wafted in, carrying with it Sarahs silent promise: from this day forward, she would hold her family closefiercely and without regretpainting every season, every ordinary day, with gratitude for all the love that had brought them here.
The stars brightened above, steady and sure, as if blessing the little house. And in that shining moment, Sarah understoodthis, here, was the miracle: not youth or distant hills, but the everyday grace of a hand to hold, a voice calling you home, and the golden gift of lovingand being lovedright up to the very last light.
