**Diary Entry Monday, 15th May**
I never imagined it would come to thisour own grandchildren calling a family meeting to discuss Gran. But there we were, sitting in the lounge, the weight of their words hanging in the air.
«Gran doesnt need to live with us,» Sophie declared, her chin set in that stubborn way shes had since she was little.
I exchanged a glance with my husband, Edward. Hed been the one to suggest it in the first place. After months of searching for a decent second-hand carsomething reliable for trips to the cottagewed hit a wall. Every car we looked at was either falling apart or far beyond our pension budget. Then Edward had the idea: *Why not ask Gran? Shes got savings, hasnt she?*
At first, Id bristled. Gran had lived in her little terraced house in York for forty years. She had her routinesmorning walks, coffee with her ladies group, evenings with her books. The thought of uprooting her just to squeeze a bit of rent money from her home felt wrong.
But Edward had spun it differently. *»Shes lonely, Margaret. At her age, she shouldnt be alone. And think of the grandkidsmore time with her, proper family dinners. Its for her own good.»*
The children had been sceptical. Our son, James, had frowned. *»Wont she miss her house?»* Our daughter, Emily, had been more direct. *»Youre not just after her savings, are you?»*
Edward had scoffed. *»Dont be ridiculous. This is about family.»*
But the grandchildrenSophie, twelve, and her twin brother Oliver, along with Jamess eldest, Thomashad seen right through it.
*»Youre not really thinking about what Gran wants,»* Thomas had said quietly. *»Youre thinking about the money her house could bring in if you rented it out.»*
Oliver had nodded. *»And where would she even sleep? The spare rooms cramped as it is. Shed hate it.»*
Id flinched. He wasnt wrong. Gran was fiercely independent. She still tended her little garden, still refused to use a mobile phone, still scolded the kids for spending too much time on their tablets. The idea of her trapped in our too-small house, surrounded by noise and screenshow had I ever thought that was kindness?
When wed gone to see her yesterday, shed served us tea in her best china, the way she always did. Her home was warm, familiarphotos of us all on the mantelpiece, her well-worn armchair by the window. Edward had launched into his pitch*»Wed love to have you with us, more family time, less worry for us all.»*
Gran had sipped her tea, her sharp eyes flickering between us. *»And what about my house?»*
Edward had waved a hand. *»Oh, wed rent it out. Cover the costs, maybe even help with a new car.»*
Shed set her cup down with a quiet *clink*. *»I see.»*
Id wanted to disappear.
Now, sitting here, I realise the children were right. Gran doesnt need rescuing. She needs respect. She needs visitsproper ones, not just rushed birthdays or Christmases. She needs to be asked what *she* wants, not treated like some inconvenience to be shuffled around for convenience.
And as for the car? Well, well manage. Maybe a smaller one, maybe sharing lifts with the neighbours. OrGrans quiet offer still lingers in my mindperhaps accepting a little help, but only if its given freely, without strings.
Because family isnt about convenience. Its about love. And sometimes, the hardest thing to admit is that love doesnt always mean bringing someone closer. Sometimes, it means letting them stay exactly where they belong.
