When my brother Paul kicked Grandma Eleanor out for not contributing financially, I took her in out of love. As she rebuilt her life and found success, Paul’s regret surfaced.
When my brother Paul kicked Grandma Eleanor out for not contributing financially, I took her in out of love. As she rebuilt her life and found success, Paul’s regret surfaced.
“Rachel, I can’t keep doing this,” Paul said. “She’s costing too much.”
“Paul, she’s our grandmother. She raised us,” I replied.
“She doesn’t bring anything to the table anymore. She just paints and wastes time.”
“Those paintings mean something to her,” I said. “And they could mean something to us if we let them.”
Paul scoffed. “We can’t afford dead weight.”
“It’s not about what she can give us now. It’s about what she’s already given.”
Paul’s attitude grew colder. Grandma Eleanor hid her hurt, but I saw it. My kids adored her, their laughter filling the house.
One evening, Paul called. “Rachel, she needs to move out. I can’t do this anymore.”
“Where will she go?”
“She can stay with you,” he said bluntly.
I prepared the spare room, and when I told Eleanor, she smiled through tears. “Thank you, Rachel. You’ve always had a kind heart.”
“Grandma, this is your home too,” I said.
Paul watched as we packed her belongings. “You’re doing the right thing,” he said.
At my house, my kids greeted her with open arms. “Great-Grandma, show us how to paint like you!”
Eleanor smiled. “Of course, darlings. Let’s create something beautiful.”
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