When Only the Niece Remains for Her Mother
My name is ÉlodieMarchand, Im sixtynine years old. I have two sons, three grandchildren and two daughtersinlaw. With such a family one might assume Im surrounded by affection and attention. In reality, the past few years have felt like living as an orphanalone in my flat, nursing a sore knee, and hearing nothing but silence from my phone for weeks.
After my husband passed away, everything changed. While he was alive my sons would visit now and thenfor holidays or errandsbut once the funeral was over they vanished. Five long years went by without seeing them, even though they live in the same city, only about forty minutes away by bus.
I never blamed them; I simply called for help. When a neighbors leak flooded my kitchenjust a little, but the ceiling was damagedI phoned my two sons. They promised to come over the weekend, yet nobody showed up. I had to hire a painter. It wasnt about the money; it was the sorrow of watching my children unable to spare even an hour for their mother.
Later my ancient refrigerator gave out. I know nothing about appliances and feared being swindled, so I called my sons againMom, there are salespeople, figure it out yourself. In the end I turned to my brother, who sent his daughter, my niece Amélie, with her husband. They took care of everything.
When the pandemic hit, my sons suddenly remembered me. They called once a month, urging me to stay home and order groceries online. They forgot, however, that I didnt know how. Amélie taught me how to place orders, arranged the first delivery, gave me a list of pharmacies that deliver, and began calling almost daily.
At first I felt guilty. After all, Amélie has her parents, a house, a husband and a daughter. Yet she was the only one who showed up for no reason. She brought soup, medication, helped me tidy up, washed the windows. One day she simply came for tea and to sit with me. Her little girlmy greatgrandniececalled me grandma, a word I hadnt heard in years.
I then made a decision: if my own children have forgotten me, caring only about what they can take rather than what they can give, my flat will go to the one who truly stands by me. I went to the social services office to draft a will. That very day, by chance, my eldest son called to ask where I was going.
I told him the truth.
What followed were screams, insults and accusations: Have you lost your mind?, Its our inheritance!, Shell be out of the house as soon as you sign!
That evening, both sons arrivedfor the first time in five yearsbringing a granddaughter I had never seen and a pie. We sat down together. I hoped perhaps they would change their minds, but they didnt. They tried to persuade me, reminding me that I have children and that I have no right to leave the apartment to a stranger. They accused Amélie of scheming and warned that she would throw me out.
I stared at them, bewildered. Where were you all this time? Why didnt you help when I needed it? Why call now only when the inheritance feels threatened?
I thanked them for their concern and said my decision was final. They left, slamming the door, swearing I would never see my grandchildren again and that I should no longer count on them.
You know, Im not scarednot because Im indifferent, but because I have nothing left to lose. I have lived for years as if I meant nothing to anyone. Now its official.
And Amélie If one day she does what my sons imagine, then Ill be wrong. But my heart tells me otherwise. She asked for nothingno money, no flat. She was simply there, extending a hand, acting like a human being.
To me, that matters far more than any blood tie.
When Only the Niece Remains for the Mother
