We are not a care home; I don’t need her here…
This remarkable story was told to me by my grandmother, whom I often visit in her village. Once, it had been a long time since I had seen her because I had been working overseas for two years. When I returned to England, the first thing I did was visit my dear grandma.
A few days into my stay in the village, I suddenly realized I hadn’t seen Mary Smith, my grandmother’s neighbor from across the road. I always liked this kind-hearted elderly lady, a tremendous worker.
“Granny, what happened to your friend Mary Smith? She hasn’t popped by in the whole week I’ve been here. Is everything alright with her?” I asked, feeling concerned.
Grandma looked at me in surprise.
“Oh, she’s been in a retirement home for over a year now. Oh, that’s right—you wouldn’t know. Let me tell you the story.” And so, my grandmother began her tale.
As I mentioned, Mary was always busy. None of the villagers ever saw her idle. She was either working in the garden, tending to her plants, or baking pies (she’d share them with half the village!), or hurrying to catch the bus with two baskets of fresh cherries early in the morning. She would take fresh vegetables, fruits, greens, eggs, goat’s cheese, and homemade cream to the market in the town center to sell. Every penny she earned, she carefully saved in an old biscuit tin.
She didn’t save money for herself. She didn’t need much after all. It was all for her only son, David, his wife, Lisa, and their daughter, Sophie. They lived in the city, about a three-hour drive away, and regularly visited Mary. They didn’t help with the garden or animals, but they never missed a chance to load up their car with homemade goodies whenever they visited.
Time passed, and gradually Mary started feeling her age. Her health started to decline—her back ached, her legs hurt, her joints stiffened, and her blood pressure skyrocketed. She slowly began downsizing her farm animals and allowed her neighbors to plant on the other half of her garden plot. Her son David visited less frequently, and his wife, Lisa, eventually stopped coming altogether since there was nothing more to gain from the village.
When Mary’s eyesight began to fail rapidly, she got frightened. She called her son and asked him to take her to see city doctors. David came to pick her up.
Lisa wasn’t too thrilled about Mary’s visit, but she didn’t let it show. She invited her in, offered her refreshments, and fed her. David suggested his mother undergo a thorough check-up. They spent the whole day at the clinic and then stopped by the pharmacy for medicines.
By then, it was too late to return to the village. When Lisa found out that Mary would be staying the night, she couldn’t hide her disappointment. She went to the kitchen to prepare dinner, and the clattering of pots was almost deafening. At that moment, an elderly neighbor stopped by. Seeing Mary, she was delighted:
“Mary! It’s been ages since I last saw you here. Are you staying long? Leaving tomorrow already? Why don’t you come over for tea and a chat?”
After seeing his mother over to the neighbor’s, David peeked into the kitchen to talk to his wife.
“Preparing dinner, Lisa? I wanted to have a chat while Mum’s not around.”
“Yes?” Lisa’s voice indicated she already didn’t like where this conversation was heading.
“Mum’s really slipping, you know. The doctors found all sorts of issues. She says her legs hurt so much she can hardly walk.”
“Well, she’s not young anymore! What did you expect? That’s old age for you.”
“That’s what I was thinking too,” David eagerly picked up. “We have this three-bedroom house. Sophie and her husband are living in London; they’re not returning here.”
“Hang on, what are you getting at?” Lisa stopped chopping carrots, “You’re not thinking of moving her in here, are you? This isn’t a care home, David.”
“For your information, two rooms in this house were paid for with the cherries and strawberries Mum sold every summer,” David retorted sharply.
“Are you throwing that in my face now?” Lisa snapped, “Your mother wasn’t helping strangers, she was helping her own son and granddaughter.”
“You’re heartless, Lisa,” sighed David sadly, “I thought we’d bring Mum here and make a good life together. She has a sturdy, wonderful house we could sell for a good price, get a new car, maybe take a holiday to Spain…”
“She can keep her precious house!” shouted Lisa, “We’d take a week abroad, and then I’d be stuck taking care of her for ten years! Who do you think I am—a servant?”
“Why speak so foolishly, you clown?” David flared up, suddenly noticing Mary at the door.
The kitchen went silent, as if everyone had gone deaf.
“Mum, how long have you been standing there?” David mumbled.
“I just came in,” Mary smiled gently, “I came to get my glasses; Katie and I are looking through old albums. Oh, I almost forgot, son. I meant to tell you. I’m moving to a care home next month. You can help me pack my things.”
David was speechless. Lisa, however, sprang into action:
“Yes, of course, he’ll help. And I’ll come too. We’ll pack up everything you need and move it. That’s a smart decision. It’s better to be with people your age than alone.”
The local care home, where David and Lisa took Mary, left David with mixed emotions. There was no denying the staff was fantastic, and the manager seemed like a kind, warm-hearted person. It was obvious they treated the elderly with compassion and care. However, the care home building itself desperately needed repairs; the linoleum in the corridors was worn, the windows draughty, and the recreation room had nothing but a broken TV and tattered chairs.
Mary’s room turned out to be small and damp. The bed was sagging, and the chairs wobbly. Yet, Mary gave no indication she was disheartened by the surroundings.
“Don’t worry, Mum,” said David cheerfully, “I’ll get this place fixed up for you; everyone will be envious. When I’m on holiday, I’ll come and overhaul the place. Don’t be lonely; we’ll visit you soon. Wait for us.”
David only remembered his promise six months later when Lisa mentioned they needed to sort out the house. It was summer then, the best time to sell.
The manager didn’t reproach the infrequent visitors. He talked warmly about Mary.
“Before you go upstairs, check the recreation room. Maybe your grandma is watching TV with her friends. Let me show you the way.”
Mary was not in the recreation room. Looking around, Lisa was taken aback.
“Wow! You’ve really spruced this place up—new sofas, chairs, a huge TV, flowers everywhere. Lovely! Wasn’t it costly to refurbish?”
“We have your mother to thank,” the manager smiled.
“My mother?” David shook his head, “What does she have to do with this?”
“All this was bought with her money.”
“Where would she get that kind of money from?” scoffed Lisa, then suddenly gasped, “David?! Did she sell her house?”
Mary watched her irate relatives calmly, as they bombarded her with accusations and selfishness.
“Why are you so worked up? I didn’t sell your house, just mine. It’s my right. I’m happy here; it’s warm and lively. I wanted to give something to good people.”
Mary glanced slyly at the red-faced Lisa.
“It’s better to sell a house and make people happy than choke on it, right, Lisa?”
Lisa lowered her eyes and dashed out. There was nothing they could change now.
