We packed up gran as a whole family.
No secrets, everyone told her straight out how fed up they were with her. And they openly discussed how spring had finally arrived, so shed be off to the countryside until late autumn. The grandchildren were distant, my wife never took to her, and I always seemed to be off on business trips. When I was home, I didnt treat her any better than the rest; she was a burden. She understood more than anyone realised, enduring it all by clinging to spring like it was a promisesomething true and good.
Spring came early this year. Gran often sat by the flats entrance, gazing up at the warm sky, soaking up the sun. She looked like a plucked sparrowthin, in moth-eaten old clothes, battered boots with worn-out galoshes stretched over them. Her own family had little love for her, but the neighbours showed her kindness, always greeting her, asking after her health, helping her up the stairs to the fifth floor. The boys next door carried her shopping bags when they ran into her coming back from the shops after school.
Despite her age, gran always managed the houseworkcooking, cleaning, washing. These were her duties. My wife rarely bothered with any of it.
Youre at home all day, so you might as well do everything, shed say brazenly when she returned from work, kicking off her shoes in the hall.
The grandchildren barely spoke to gran. When they had friends over, she stayed out of sight after one of them said her appearance embarrassed them.
Gran never argued with anyone. She was mostly silent. And when everyone slept at night, shed cry alone in her tiny bedroom, mourning her fate.
She was sent to the station by taxi, so no one would have to trail after her on buses. Her baggage was modesta faded bag and a bundle of old clothes.
Leaning heavily on her stick, she tottered along the platform. She rested on a bench for a moment, then boarded the train as it arrived. Peering out of the window with gentle, clear eyes, she waited as the train pulled away and took from her bag a crumpled photograph. My wife and children smiled up at her from the photothese smiles were all she had seen lately. Gran kissed the picture gently and tucked it back.
Leaving the train, she walked quietly towards the village. Someone gave her a lift most of the way. She opened the garden gate and followed the muddy path to her cottage. Here, everything was familiar. Hers. Here, she belongedeven if only to the sagging fence, weathered walls and creaky porch. Here, she was wanted.
Grans village meant everything to her. She was born here, raised her children here, buried her husband here. Shed spent almost half her life in this place, even lived through the loss of her eldest son. Fate had decided he wouldnt see today.
Gran opened the shutters, lit a fire in the stove. Sitting on the bench by the window, she drifted into thought. Her children once sat on this bench. They ate at this table, slept in those beds, ran across those floorboards and gazed through these windows. Childrens voices echoed in her earsonce she was their mother, their most precious person, the one they needed most.
The sun would shine just as brightly back then too, and there had been plenty of springshappy and caring times spent within these walls. Gran smiled at the gentle country spring.
***
She didnt wake up the next morning, remaining forever on her land. On the table lay a pile of old photographs. And one newer, though crumpledthe very one from yesterday, with her loved ones smiling.
While were alive, theres so much we can still do.
Ask forgiveness, express gratitude, speak our feelings. While we live, we have no right to put these things off till tomorrow. Once someones gone, they never return, and were left carrying stones in our hearts that are too heavy to bear.
We must live truthfully, kindly, and warmlyfrom the heart. Love and cherish, value others feelings, remember those who gave us life and raised us up.
Today, Ive learned how fleeting moments truly are. And how much I wish Id shown gran more kindness, while there was still time.
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