**A Grandfather’s Echo: How a Grandson Rekindled His Grandmother’s Spark**
Lauren and Paul drove to the countryside with their son, Victor, to visit Lauren’s mother and leave the boy with his grandmother for the holidays. On the way, they stocked up on groceries—sausages, Mum’s favourite cake, all the things she loved. But when they arrived, Theresa barely greeted them with warmth. At the table, there was only tea—no treats. Despite filling the fridge to the brim, she barely touched a thing. She looked exhausted, retreating to the sofa almost immediately.
Outside, the snow was melting under a rare sunny spell. Spring. Lauren stood by the window, squinting at the bright light. “How lovely,” she thought, remembering her father, who’d passed a few years prior. He always welcomed spring with joy: “We’ve made it through another winter!” His cheerfulness, his jokes, his hugs… Her mother, though stern, had always been lively, smiling through her grumbling. They’d loved each other deeply. Now Theresa seemed faded—lost since her husband’s death.
Her sister, Gemma, called, her voice tight with worry. “Lauren, Mum’s in a bad way. Says she’s tired of living. Nothing brings her joy anymore—she just wants to be with Dad.”
“We’ll come this weekend, I promise,” Lauren assured her. But her chest ached. Maybe they should bring Theresa home? She wasn’t coping alone.
Home was no easier, though. Their eldest, Eleanor, was strong-willed, clashing with Paul, declaring she’d leave the moment she turned eighteen—”sick of the pressure.” Meanwhile, little Victor spent every waking minute glued to his phone.
“Let’s visit your mother and take Victor with us. He could use a break from that screen,” Paul suggested.
Victor rolled his eyes. “What am I supposed to do there?”
“Relax!” Eleanor snapped. “And give us a break too.”
That weekend, arms laden with groceries, they set off. Theresa met them again, but her demeanour was dull. Paul nudged Lauren—”Putting on a show.” Still, she looked frail, refusing food, sipping only tea. When Lauren asked if Victor could stay, Theresa waved a hand. “Leave him.”
Victor sulked as he was left behind. His grandmother retreated to her room and… wept. Then she remembered meeting her Thomas—how shy and awkward he’d been, how her aunt had introduced them. It had been spring then, too. And now spring again. But he was gone.
Suddenly—a shout. Theresa bolted up. Victor! He’d trapped his finger, standing there cross and pitiful.
“Why so grumpy, love? Hungry?” she asked gently.
“Your food makes my stomach hurt,” he muttered. “I’d rather have your milk pudding. The sweet one, with butter.”
Her heart clenched. Thomas had loved that pudding too—always asked for it when he was down. With a grunt, she heaved herself up.
“Only if you eat with me, alright? I’m lonely,” Victor added.
And so, they settled into a rhythm. Lauren called daily. At first, Theresa was curt. Then the complaints started.
“Can’t get him to wipe his feet! Claims his stomach aches. So I fixed it—no sweets, and suddenly he’s cured. Stopped tramping mud in, too. Bright lad!”
Paul laughed. “There we go! Someone to grumble at—life’s back on track!”
A week later, they returned for Victor. But he didn’t want to leave! Theresa fought back tears.
“He’s the spitting image of Thomas… Stubborn, sweet, and sly!”
“Don’t cry, Gran. I’ll be back soon,” Victor promised solemnly.
“I’ll hold you to that, love. We’ve got the garden, the fence—everything you said you’d help with!”
“I’ll do it all. Promise.”
Theresa smiled through her tears.
“And he’s keeping his phone—I need him to call me!” she told his parents firmly.
“Now that’s a plot twist,” Lauren chuckled to Paul at home.
“Takes one to stir one. Our Victor could rouse anyone—even Mum off that sofa. And she was halfway to the other side.”
Now she had someone to live for again. Because Victor? He’s Thomas reborn. And Gran knows how to raise them right—look at the wife she made you!” Paul added.
They laughed. Life, it seemed, was finally turning around.
