My Children Are Well Provided For, I Have Some Savings, and Soon I’ll Be Drawing My Pension A few months ago, my neighbour Fred was laid to rest. We’d known each other for over a dozen years, always living side by side—not just casual acquaintances, but true family friends, watching our children grow up together. Fred and his wife Susan raised five kids, and their parents worked hard to buy each of them a home. Fred in particular was respected around town as a master mechanic; his calendar was booked up months in advance and the owner of the service station was always praying for an expert like Fred, who could diagnose any engine problem simply by listening—a real craftsman. Not long before his death, after his youngest daughter’s wedding, Fred took to riding his moped and slowing his pace, adopting a gentler walk typical of older folk. Yet he had turned just 59 last spring. He decided to take time off work, despite his boss pleading with him to stay on for ten more days so the garage wouldn’t lose clients. But Fred wasn’t interested. The day before he planned to leave, he went to management, asked for a peaceful release, promising to help out in a pinch if they ever really got stuck. Oddly, he didn’t mention anything to his wife, and on the morning when he should have been preparing for work at the garage, he rolled over in bed and went back to sleep. Susan rushed in from the kitchen, breakfast laid out, and scolded: “Are you still sleeping? Who did I make breakfast for? It’ll go cold!” “I don’t mind cold, I’m not going to work…” “What do you mean, not going? They’re counting on you!” “I’m not going, I resigned yesterday…” “Stop joking, get up!” She playfully pulled the covers back, but Fred just curled up and shut his eyes again. “I’m tired, Suze, I’ve used up my time… Like an engine after its third overhaul… The kids are all sorted, I’ve got some savings, I’ll apply for my pension now…” “Pension? The kids have jobs, tons of renovating to do, they’re upgrading, replacing furniture, Alex wants a new car—who’s going to help?” “Let them figure it out themselves. You and I, thank God, helped them when they needed it.” —— Susan came to me in distress and recounted the conversation, seeking advice, and I shared my thoughts on Fred’s changes: “He truly is tired, if he says so himself. Don’t push him back to work—let him really rest for once, not spend every day hunched under cars tightening bolts. Just the other evening, I barely recognised him, shuffling like an old man. When he realised I didn’t know him, he just said, ‘I’m tired…’” But Susan brushed aside my concerns. “He’s just moping! I’ll gather all the kids—they’ll tell him how much there’s still to do!” “Suze, you can’t keep doing this. Your oldest is what, 45? Soon he’ll be a grandfather and you’re still helping him? Let the kids help you now. Old age is on the doorstep.” She was offended and left. —— A week later, Fred and Susan’s kids all gathered round the big table—there was plenty of noise but a certain tension lingered. Everyone sensed the real reason they’d assembled, though it was passed off as a ‘family meeting.’ Susan opened proceedings: “Your dad is about to retire—what do you think? Let’s talk about it. Going forward, we won’t be able to help as much, and you’ll need to step up…” Fred interrupted: “No need for drama, look at our children—five, all working, surely you can support the two of us? Remember, we raised and provided for all five with no complaints. That’s how it should be; parents help their children. Now maybe we need help ourselves. It’s becoming hard for me to work now, I worry I’ll collapse at the garage…” After a silence, the eldest, Anthony, spoke first—not with concern for their father, but with a laundry list of his own issues, ending with: “Sorry, we don’t have enough to help just yet, maybe in the future…” The other kids chimed in with similar excuses—housing needs, car aspirations, expecting parental assistance yet again, with little thought for how mum and dad had managed it all. Fred finally stood up and sighed: “Well then, since everyone wants me working, I’ll keep at it as long as I can…” The following day, Susan visited me and, returning to our earlier talk, remarked: “Well, you said—kids came, talked to their dad, but now they’re just off to their jobs as if nothing’s wrong, and Fred’s supposedly ‘just tired!’ I’m tired too—so now what?” —— Fred managed three more shifts at the garage before an ambulance took him away—there was nothing to be done for his worn-out heart. The kids came again for the funeral, sharing memories of their father and grandfather, praising his kindness. I longed to ask, “Why didn’t you give him the support he asked for?” Such a sad tale befell our neighbour. Now Susan lives alone, saving every penny—because her children all have their own unsolved problems…

My children are well settled, I have a bit of money put aside, and soon Ill start receiving my pension.

A few months back, our neighbours laid to rest dear Frederick. Wed known each other for over a decade, always living side by side. We werent mere acquaintances we were close family friends, and we watched each others children grow up. Frederick and Margaret had five children. Both parents worked hard and managed to buy each of their kids a home. Frederick, especially, was tireless in town, he was respected as a skilled mechanic, and his appointment book was filled months ahead. The owner of the garage would be desperate to keep such an expert on staff; Frederick could identify every engines issue just by listening, the kind of master craftsman you rarely come across.

Shortly before he passed, after his youngest daughters wedding, Frederick started riding his scooter around, taking life slowly. His once brisk walk became an old mans measured shuffle. And yet, hed only just turned 59 that spring. Hed taken time off work; apparently, his boss begged him to come back after ten days because customers didnt want to lose him, but Frederick had no intention of returning. The day before he was meant to go in, he visited his managers and asked to be let go peacefully, promising to look in when they were truly in a pickle.

For some reason, he hadnt mentioned anything to Margaret. The next morning, instead of getting ready for another day at the garage, he stretched, rolled onto his side, and went back to sleep. Margaret hurried in from the kitchen, the breakfast already laid out, clapped her hands, and exclaimed,

Are you still asleep? Who did I make breakfast for? Itll get cold!
Ill eat it cold, Im not going into work
What do you mean youre not going? Theyre waiting for you!
I quit yesterday
Oh, stop joking, get up now!

Laughing, Margaret snatched the blanket off him, but he didnt move. He just curled up, covered his face, and said,

Im tired, Margaret, my times nearly up Like an engine after its third rebuild The children are set up, Ive got a few pounds saved, and Ill try for my pension
Pension? The children have so much to do, houses to renovate, extensions to build, new furniture, Susan wants a car wholl help them?
Let them manage on their own. You and I, thank goodness, have always helped when needed, never turned our backs

A little later, Margaret came over to see me, clearly flustered. She told me what happened that morning. Seeking advice, I shared my thoughts about the changes Id seen in Frederick:

Hes genuinely worn out, Margaret, youre saying it yourself. Dont push him to go back to work, let him rest properly. Hes no lad who can spend all day under cars turning bolts. Just the other evening at dusk, I barely recognised him walking like a granddad, hunched over and dragging his feet. When I realised it was Frederick, I was taken aback. When he heard me say I didnt recognise him, he replied, Im tired

But Margaret didnt take my words seriously.
Hes just moping about all this being tired! Ill gather the children and make them tell him how much work still needs doing!
Margaret, you cant keep doing everything. How old is your eldest now? Forty-five, am I right? Hell be a grandfather soon enough, and yet youre still thinking you need to help him. Let the children support you now. Old age doesnt wait outside forever.

She took offence and left.

A week later, all five children gathered at Frederick and Margarets house. The big dining table was crowded and loud, but an uneasy mood hung in the air. Everyone knew this was not just a catch-up, but something more.

Margaret opened the family council:
Your fathers ready to retire. What do you all think? Time we had a talk. Soon, we wont be able to help you as much, youll need to manage on your own…

Frederick chimed in:
Look, really, why all the fuss? Weve five children, each employed. Surely you can support the two of us now after all, we raised all five of you and got you established. No ones poor. Im not blaming you, just recalling life. Its parents duty to help their children, but now, perhaps, we need a bit of help ourselves. Its tough for me to keep working; I worry Ill collapse under a car lift at the garage

After a pause, the eldest, Anthony, spoke up, skipping over how his father was feeling and instead listing his own daily troubles. He concluded,
Sorry, Dad, but we dont really have the money to help you out right now maybe in the future…

The rest echoed similar sentiments. Some needed new homes, others wanted cars, and all hoped the parents would continue supporting their plans. Not once did anyone ask how Mum and Dad managed these “contributions”.

Finally Frederick got up and said sadly,
Well, if you insist, Ill keep on working as long as Im able…

The next day, Margaret came by and, as if picking up our previous conversation, said,
There you have it. The children came, talked with their father, then dashed off to work as usual, leaving him moaning, Im tired, Im tired! As if Im not tired, too. What now?

…Frederick went back to the garage for three days. An ambulance took him from the workshop. There was nothing more anyone could do for his worn-out heart. Once again all five children came together, this time for the funeral and the wake. We were there, too, hearing their stories and memories of Dad, talking about what a wonderful man hed been to them and the grandchildren. Part of me wanted to ask, So why didnt you listen when he asked for your help?

Such a sorrowful tale befell our neighbour Margaret. She lives alone now, cutting back on everything just to get by, as her own children have more problems of their own and little time left for her.