I was with them from the first breath. < img src = "https://zycie.news/crrops/96bc5c/620x0/1/0/2025/03/27/wnfrdtiqs6lkhewiizi62f06czkheq454mah3fu.jpg" alt = "from life taken. & Amp; Quot; I looked after my grandchildren for the years &: now the daughter -in -law says it's time to relax - at the Senior House" styles = "background-color: rgba (52.50.41.0)" > < p > when c & oacute; my son cried all night & ndash; I hugged her to sleep.

< p > When the grandson had a fever, I watched at his & oacute; because my parents had to work.

< p > I was there when they took their first steps when they went to kindergarten, when they were afraid of darkness.

< p > I always m & oacute; I felt: “I help because I love. I don't expect anything in return. < P >But I never thought that I would have to ask for the right to stay in this house.

< p > After my husband's death I moved to my son.

< p > — & AMP; BDQUO; You'll be at home with us, mom. Children love you. < p > and indeed & ndash; I was part of their lives.

< p > I cooked lunches, I did shopping, took children from school, sewed their balls, I helped in lessons.

< p > daughter -in -law was satisfied.

< p > they did not pay for the nanny. They did not worry about graphics.

< p > I was.

< p > always.

< p > but then & hellip; the children grew.

< p > began to spend time with r & oacute; villages, have their affairs.

< p > daughter -in -law began to turn her eyes more and more often when I entered the kitchen.

< p > more and more often m & oacute; wiła:

< P >& Amp; MDASH; & AMP; Bdquo; Mama should think about some place for herself. Somewhere where someone will take care of her. & Amp;

< p > m & oacute; it was with my son.

< p > A on & hellip; he was silent.

< p > always silent.

< p > one evening she said it directly:

< p > — & AMP; Bdquo; Mom, maybe we'll think about the Senior House ? There are beautiful conditions now. And there will be mother contact with r & oacute; runs. & Amp;

< p > I was & oacute; I saw.

< p > — & AMP; BDQUO; But it's m & oacute; j house & Hellip; & Amp; Rdquo; & Amp; MDASH; I whispered.

< p > and she just smiled artificially:

< p > — & AMP; BDQUO; He was. And now it's a bit of & Hellip; too tight. & rdquo;

< p > I didn't sleep all night.

< p > I sat by the window and looked at the yard's subtitudes, after which my grandchildren ran when they were small.

< p > I taught them to ride a bike.

< p > I kept my hand when they fell for the first time.

< p > and now ?

< p > I don't even have the right to vote.

< p > I don't even have a roof over my head, which would be m & oacute; j.

< p > The next day I packed my things.

< p > I left everything & ndash; books, photos, memories.

< p > because I do not want to be a burden that someone can not bear the time.

< p > but inside it hurts.

< p > because love, which you give & oacute; should not end in a nursing home.

< p > m & oacute; that I will take care, classes, silence.

< p > but nobody asked if I wanted silence after years in which I was needed.

< p > because it hurts the most.

< p > It hurts that you can be so easily forgotten & hellip; Even those who devoted everything to those who have been devoted to everything.

Natasha Kumar

By Natasha Kumar

Natasha Kumar has been a reporter on the news desk since 2018. Before that she wrote about young adolescence and family dynamics for Styles and was the legal affairs correspondent for the Metro desk. Before joining The Times Hub, Natasha Kumar worked as a staff writer at the Village Voice and a freelancer for Newsday, The Wall Street Journal, GQ and Mirabella. To get in touch, contact me through my natasha@thetimeshub.in 1-800-268-7116