We’ll Live for Each Other After his mother’s death, George slowly started to recover. His mother had spent her last days in the hospital, where she eventually passed away. Before that, she was bedridden at home, with George and his wife, Vera, taking turns to care for her. Their houses stood side by side. He had offered for his mother to move in with them, but she had stubbornly refused. “Son, your father died here, and this is where I want to die. It’s easier for me,” she sobbed, and George couldn’t go against her wishes. It would have been easier for George and his wife to care for his mother if she’d lived with them, but their daughter, Kate, was only thirteen. They didn’t want her to see her grandmother fade away. George worked in shifts, Vera was a primary school teacher, so they managed by taking turns staying the night at his mother’s house. “Mum, is Grandma going to die soon?” Kate once asked. “It’s a shame, she’s so lovely.” “I don’t know, sweetheart, but everyone’s time comes. That’s life.” When Grandma’s condition worsened, she was taken to hospital. George had a younger sister, Rita, three years his junior, with a son, Tony, who was mainly looked after by Grandma and Vera, since Rita was always “away on business trips,” as she claimed. She’d long been divorced, had little interest in caring for their mother, knowing her brother and sister-in-law took care of it all. Rita was George’s polar opposite: hard, selfish, and confrontational. Three days later, their mother passed in hospital. After the funeral, they decided to sell her house, as it needed constant attention or it would soon fall to ruin. Their mother had long since left the house to her son in her will—there had never been a real relationship with the daughter. Rita knew and didn’t even speak to their mother because of it. But after the sale, George’s wife urged him: “As soon as the money’s in your hands, split it fifty-fifty with Rita.” “Vera, Rita’s got her own flat—her ex-husband left her that when he left with nothing. She’ll only squander it anyway.” “Doesn’t matter, George. Our conscience will be clear. Otherwise she’ll just bad-mouth both of us.” George agreed, and handed over half to his sister, who responded, “Is that all? Where’s the rest?” Time passed. Kate turned fifteen, when misfortune struck again—this time, Vera fell seriously ill. She had been feeling unwell, blaming tiredness from work, until she collapsed in the garden. She was hospitalized, but it was already too late: the dreaded disease had taken hold. “Isn’t there anything you can do for my wife?” George pleaded with the doctor. “We’re doing everything we can, but she came to us too late,” the doctor shook his head. George brought Vera home, cared for her alongside Kate; her condition worsened every day. He even took time off work to be by her side, but eventually his leave ran out—while he was at work, Kate took care of her mother, feeding and washing her. One day, Rita turned up: “George, my washing machine’s broken—can you have a look?” “Alright, I’ll drop by,” he promised, and mended it after work. As he was leaving, he said, “You should come by and help us now and then, so Kate’s not left alone with Vera. She’s just a child, and it’s exhausting work even for an adult.” “Oh please, don’t go bringing up favours from years ago. Vera helped me with Tony, yes, but I was away working. Anyway, I gave her a gold ring for all that.” “Yes, you did, but she gave it straight back and you took it.” “If she didn’t want it, I’ll keep it. And anyway, it’s not the same as looking after a dying person. Don’t expect it from me.” Rita turned and left without even a thank you. George was done. “Don’t ask me for anything again. You’re heartless.” He put his sister out of his mind after that. Vera faded quickly. One day, Kate saw her father coming down the road and rushed out. “Dad, Mum’s really bad—she’s turned to the wall and won’t eat or talk.” “It’s alright, love, we’ll get through this. We will,” he reassured her, but that night Vera passed away. Father and daughter were now alone in the world. Oddly, George felt a little relief: Vera didn’t have to suffer anymore, and Kate was spared seeing it. He loved his wife, but the cruel illness had worn him and Kate down to the bone. After Vera’s funeral, grief overwhelmed George—he missed her smile, her kindness, her care. Kate mourned, but tried to comfort her father: “Dad, we did everything we could, and even though Mum’s not here, we’ll get used to it in time. The main thing is we have each other.” He was taken aback by his daughter’s maturity. She devoted herself to her father—cooking, managing the house, and sharing their daily news over dinner. Not long after, George came home and Kate told him, “Aunt Rita dropped by for Mum’s old fur coat and some other things. She said you knew.” “I never told her that. Don’t let her in again,” George told her, “lock the door as soon as you’re home. She’s no business here.” Then, George fell ill at work—severe chest pain, struggling to breathe. His colleague called an ambulance; he was rushed to hospital. Kate rushed to his bedside, brokenhearted, but a doctor comforted her: “Don’t cry, your dad just needs rest and treatment—he had a pre-heart attack.” With school, home, her father in hospital, Kate had to step up, stretching herself thin. She visited George daily, even cooking for him. One day Rita turned up with a pie. “Kate, I baked this for your dad in hospital. I won’t visit—he can’t stand me. Take it for him, don’t say it’s from me.” Soon after, Tony arrived—he sometimes helped Kate out, being her cousin. “Forgot my keys at home, just popping in. Wow, did you bake this pie?” “No, your mum did—for my dad. Let me cut you a piece, after school and all.” They shared pie and tea, then set off for the hospital together. Suddenly Tony went pale, gripped the handrail, and collapsed on the hospital steps—the doctors discovered he’d been poisoned. “What did he eat?” the doctor asked Kate. “The pie Mum baked for my dad,” Kate replied. “Don’t give your father any,” the doctor said, and took it away to investigate. Rita was called to the hospital. “Oh my God, Tony, what happened? How could you get so ill?” “It was your pie, Aunt Rita!” Kate blurted, and Rita went white as a sheet. Soon after, Rita was taken away by the police. It turned out she’d poisoned the pie, planning to kill her brother and sell his house; she assumed Kate would go to uni and live in halls. But she hadn’t reckoned on Tony eating it. When George was released from hospital, he visited Rita with Kate and Tony. “Forgive me, George, please Tony, please Kate… I see what I’ve done. Forgive me,” she sobbed. George withdrew the charges, Rita was released. Tony couldn’t forgive her—their relationship shattered—he spent more and more time with George and Kate. “Uncle George, I can never forgive my mother. I hate her—how could she?” “Tony, you can’t choose your parents. What your mum did was terrible, but she sincerely regrets it. Everyone can make a mistake. Give her a chance, forgive her—she’s suffering.” Slowly, things began to mend. Tony got into university, Kate finished school and was also planning to study—she hated the thought of leaving her father alone. “It’s fine, love, I’ll manage. You need to get your degree. We’ll live for each other—you’ll come home for weekends and holidays. Your mother always wanted you to go to teacher’s college.”

Well Live for Each Other

After my mother died, I began to come to terms with it. Shed been in hospital for some time and thats where she passed away. Before that, shed been at her own house, and my wife Emily and I took turns looking after her. Our house was right next door to hers. I offered to bring her to live with us, but she flatly refused.

Son, your father died in this house, and Ill die here too. Its easier for me this way, shed say through tears, and I could never deny her.

It would have been more convenient for Emily and me if Mum had lived with us, but on the other hand, our daughter Lucy was thirteen, and we didnt want her to have to watch her grandmother fade away before her eyes. I worked shifts at the factory, and Emily taught at the village primary school. That way, Mum was never left alone, and we even took turns spending the night at her place.

Mum, is Grandma going to die soon? Lucy would ask. Its so sad. She was always so kind to us.

I dont know, love. But itll happen one day. Thats just how life is.

When Grandma took a turn for the worse, we had to take her to hospital. I have a younger sister, Diane, three years my junior. Her son, Alex, was often looked after by Grandma and Emily, as Diane was always off somewhereshe said it was for work trips. Shed been divorced for ages, never keen on looking after Mum, knowing my wife and I did it all. Diane and I couldnt have been more differentshe was brash, selfish, always picking fights.

Three days after Mum went into hospital, she died. After the funeral, we decided we ought to sell her houseotherwise, it would quickly fall into disrepair. Years ago, Mum gave me the house in her will. She never had a good relationship with Diane, who knew about the arrangement and hadnt spoken to Mum in a long time.

When the house was sold, Emily insisted, almost pleaded:

As soon as you get the money, split it evenly with Diane.

But Dianes got her own flat, love. Her ex left her a lovely place when they split, and if she gets any money shell just squander it.

Thats not the point, Tom. Well have a clear conscience, and she cant run us down to everyone if you did the right thing.

I agreed and gave Diane half the money. Instead of thanks, she just sneered, Is that it? Wheres the rest?

Time went onLucy was fifteen when it happened again: bad luck in our family. Emily fell ill. Shed not been herself for a while, blaming it on tiredness from school, but then she collapsed in the garden. We rushed her to hospital and after some tests, the doctors broke the newsshe had a terrible illness, and it was already too late.

Isnt there anything that can be done for my wife? I asked desperately, but the doctor only shrugged.

Were doing all we can, but she waited too long. She didnt come to usshe ended up here after collapsing. Didnt you notice she was ill?

Of course I did. I begged her to see someone. But Emily always lived for others, never for herself I trailed off.

I brought Emily home, and she took to her bed. Lucy and I cared for her, but the illness worsened daily. I even learned to give her injections, took time off work to be by her side. But soon I had to go back. Lucy took over, looking after her mother after school, helping to feed and wash her. It was exhausting.

One evening, Diane came round.

Tom, my washing machines packed upcome have a look, would you? Youre good at fixing things.

Alright, Ill be round after work, I agreed. I fixed it the next day.

As I was leaving, I said, You could at least come by sometimes, help Lucy with Emily. Shes only fifteen, and shes completely worn out, both body and mind, while Im working. Even grown-ups struggle with this, let alone a child. Remember, Emily looked after Alex for almost ten years, and even stood up for you when your ex tried to claim the flat.

Oh, dont start on all that from a hundred years ago. Alex is seventeen now, you know I married before you. Fine, Emily helped me with Alex, but I was travelling for work. I bought her a gold ring in thanks.

Yes, and she handed it straight back to you, but you took it without a blink.

If she didnt want it, fine by me. Anyway, its one thing to watch a healthy child, quite another to sit with someone dying. No thanks, I want nothing to do with it, she snapped and didnt even thank me for fixing her washer.

After that, Id had enough. Dont ask me for anything ever again. Youre heartlessplain and simple.

I didnt think about my sister after that. Emilys health declined rapidly. One day, Lucy spotted me outside from the window and came running.

Dad, Mums really badshe wont eat, shes just turned to the wall, and she wont say a word. I tried to give her her medicine and some water, but

Its alright, lovewell manage, we will, honestly.

But that night, Emily died. Lucy and I cried togetherwe were alone now. Oddly, I felt a slight relief knowing Emily was no longer suffering, and Lucy didnt have to witness it anymore. I loved my wife dearly, but the illness had not just taken herit left Lucy and me drained and alone.

After the funeral, it hit me hard. I missed the sound of her laugh, her gentle way, the way she made everything feel rightlife would never be the same. Lucy tried to comfort me, even as she grieved herself.

Dad, we did everything we could. We have to accept whats happenedMums not suffering anymore. Well get used to it, as long as we have each other.

Youre so grown up, Lucy. This tragedy has changed you, I told her in wonder.

She worried for me, made sure she was always around, and I rushed home after work to be with her. She even learned to cook, so we could have dinner together and chat.

One day, I came home and Lucy said, Dad, Auntie Diane popped round today.

Whatever for? I said, annoyed. Dont let her in next time.

She just slipped in before I could shut the door. She said she wanted to grab Mums old sheepskin coat and some other bitssaid youd agreed.

I didnt. If she comes again, dont let her in, and lock the door as soon as you get home.

I was at work when I suddenly felt severe chest painI couldnt breathe, and the pain was agonising. I went pale and started to lose consciousness. Thankfully, my mate called an ambulance right away. Lucy ran crying into the hospital, and the doctor reassured her.

Hell pull through. Hes had a warninghell need treatment.

Now, Lucy had to shoulder everythingme, school, the house. It kept her busy from morning till night. She rushed to visit me, tried to make food for me. One day, Diane turned up and handed over a cake.

Lucy, I baked this for your dad. How is he? I cant bear to visithe cant stand me, you know. Take it to him, dont say where its from.

Alright, thank you, Auntie Diane, Lucy replied, and off she went.

About fifteen minutes after Diane left, Alex turned uphe often helped Lucy; after all, he was family. He was finishing up at school and preparing for university.

I forgot my house keys, so I popped round. Did you bake this cake?

No, I cant. Your mum brought it for Dad. Want a slice? Theres too much for Dad alone.

Alex said yes, and she made him a cuppa. They decided to visit me in hospital together. But before they could, Alex turned white, beads of sweat on his face, and he grabbed the staircase rail, then collapsed. Thank goodness they were at the hospital.

It turned out that Alex had been poisonedthere was some toxic substance in his blood.

What did he eat? the doctor asked Lucy.

The cakehe and I had some before going to my dad. Auntie Diane baked it and brought it for Dad.

Dont give your father any of itIll need to run some tests, the doctor said, taking the cake away.

Word got to Diane, and she rushed to the hospital.

My God, Alex! What happened? How could you get so ill?

He ate your cake, Mum, Lucy said. Diane went pale.

A while later, the police took Diane in for questioning. It turned out shed laced the cake with something, intending to poison me, sell my house, and leave Lucy to fend for herself at university in the halls. She never considered Alex might eat it by mistake.

When I was released from hospital, Lucy, Alex, and I went to visit Diane in custody.

Im so sorry, Tom, Alex, Lucyplease, forgive me. Im truly sorry, she sobbed.

I withdrew my statement, and she was released some time later. Alex couldnt forgive his mother, and he spent more and more time with me and Lucy.

Uncle Tom, Ill never forgive her. I hate herhow could she do that?

Alex, you dont get to choose your parents. She did a terrible thing, but she truly regrets it. Everyone makes mistakes. Give her a chanceforgive her. Shes suffering with the guilt.

Gradually, things settled. Alex went to university, and Lucy was ready to finish school and study more, though she hated the thought of leaving me alone.

Itll be alright, love. You need to go and study. Well live for each otheryou can always come for weekends and holidays. Mum always wanted you to go to teacher training college.Lucy packed her suitcase with trembling hands, pausing every so often to glance around her room at all the memoriesnotes on the mirror from her mother, a faded family photograph by the window, the quilt Grandma had made. She looked out and saw me in the garden, stubbornly digging despite my aching chest. She came down to me, her bag slung over her shoulder.

Dad, are you sure youll be alright? she asked, worry filling her eyes.

I leaned my spade on the fence. Ill be missing you every day, Luce. But your mum and grandmatheyd want this for you. Its your time now.

A rush of tears pricked her eyes, but she only hugged me fiercely. Promise youll look after yourself? No more skipping doctors appointments, no junk food. And call meevery evening.

I managed a smile. Only if you promise the same. And come home hungryIll try not to poison the stew.

She laughed through her tears, and for a moment I caught a glimmer of the little girl shed been. Alex drove up, car bursting with his uni-books, and honked. Lucy waved him down.

As the car pulled away, I stood by the gate, watching them go. Their laughter drifted back on the wind, and though grief tugged at me, pride outshone it. Life had battered us, but still we carried onimperfect and bruised, but together.

The seasons shifted. I dove into new routines: tending the roses, volunteering at the school, meetings with old friends at the café. Lucy called every night, just as promised, her voice bright as she recounted her chaotic days on campus and new friends from all over. Alex visited often, and wed share meals, sometimes sitting in silence, sometimes swapping memoriessome bitter, most sweet.

That Christmas, the house was full againLucy home with stories, Alex with laughter, old scars fading into gentle shadows. We toasted to absent friends and family, the ones wed loved and lost; we toasted to forgiveness, even the hardest kind.

As we cleared the dishes, I caught Lucy watching me. She grinned, her eyes steady and strong.

Well live for each other, Dad. Just like we promised.

And that promisegentle, stubborn, and enduringcarried us through the dark, and into all the light that came after.