When autumn hit and William fell ill, everything turned upside down. The neighbours rang the phone: Andrew, come at once. Your fathers in bed and cant get up by himself.
When Margaret passed away, a hush settled over the little cottage on the edge of the village. William, her husband, was left to his own devices. The neighbours would often say, Hell have a tough time without Margaretshe was everywhere: the garden, the house, the hens, even the old cow.
But William kept on. In the morning he tended the cattle, by noon he was out in the yard fixing things so his hands never stayed idle. Sitting around feeling sorry for himself was never his style. Still, time isnt kind to anyone; after seventy his health began to wobble, his legs gave way more often than they used to.
His son Andrew lived in London and visited regularly. Hed perch on the garden bench and say, Dad, why not move to us? Itd be easier there, we could look after you.
No, son, William would wave him off. Youve got your own family, your own worries. I wont be a burden. This is my home, every nook belongs to me.
Andrew would sigh. He knew his fathers temperamentproud, taciturn, never liked being pitied.
His daughterinlaw Eleanor, a nurse from the city with two teenage children, listened to the talks and kept quiet. To her, William always seemed a bit stern, a touch distant. He acknowledged her, but never with much warmth.
Then autumn came again and Williams condition worsened. The neighbours called once more: Andrew, come quick. Your fathers down and cant get up.
Andrew drove straight over. The cottage was chilly, the stove cold. William lay on the bed, thin and hunched.
Dad, Andrew leaned in, why were you so quiet?
William waved a hand, Ah, nothing didnt want to bother you lot with my troubles. Ill pull myself together, I promise.
He didnt. After a trip to the doctor it became clear he couldnt manage alone in the village. Andrew tried again: Come stay with us. The hospitals nearer, were right here.
I dont want to be a weight. Youve got kids, work Who would need me?
Thats when Eleanor stepped in. She looked at her exhausted fatherinlaw and felt a sting of something like sorrow.
Dad, she said, genuinely, stop fighting it. Youre not a burden, youre family. Come live with us and everything will be fine.
William stared at her, surprised, as if hed just seen Eleanor not just as a daughterinlaw but as a woman with a warm heart.
Would you mind, my dear? he asked softly.
Not at all, Dad, she smiled. Weve got room. The kids will love having you around.
So he packed up and moved to the city.
At first the noise, the crowds, the cramped garden in place of his beloved hedgerow felt odd. Eleanor did everything she could to make him feel at homecooking his favourite beef stew with beans, laundering his shirts, even placing the old oil lamp theyd rescued from the cottage on his bedside table.
One evening he said, Thank you, love.
For what? she asked.
For not letting me fade away. Andrews a good son, but you youre like Margaret. She always took on the hardest chores with a smile.
Eleanor swallowed a tear, hearing for the first time her fatherinlaw call her daughter.
Days passed. The grandchildren ran to their granddad, hanging on his stories of youth, of building the cottage with Margaret. He taught his grandson how to carve little wooden boats, and his granddaughter how to sing old folk songs.
And strangely enough, the little cottage that used to be a whirlwind of tasks now radiated more warmth with Williams presence. Eleanor realised it wasnt she who had done a kindness for her motherinlaw; it was William whod given the whole family a priceless gifthis very being.
One afternoon Andrew confessed to his wife, I never imagined youd manage this. Dad was always proud; I was scared youd never get along.
She laughed, Oh, stop. You just needed to see him as a man who also needs love.
William lived with them for several more years, thriving despite his ailments. At holidays they all gathered around the table and he would toast, The greatest happiness is having someone to pass a glass of water to, and someone to share a life with.
On his final day he clasped Eleanors hand tightly and whispered, Thank you, love, for not letting me be alone.
After the funeral, Eleanor lingered by his grave, feeling that she hadnt just lost a fatherinlaw, but another dad.
