**Diary Entry A Mothers Heartbreak**
“Nancy, you wont believe what Ive just heard!” Irene, usually so composed, sounded utterly shaken. “Its beyond anything I could imagine!”
“Whats happened?” Nancy asked, startled by her friends uncharacteristic distress.
“I cant explain over the phone. Im just round the cornerlet me come by.”
“Of course,” Nancy replied, curiosity piqued.
***
“Well, out with it!” Nancy urged as she ushered Irene inside, motioning to the spread on the table: a fresh apple pie, two delicate china cups, and a teapot steeping with fragrant herbal tea.
“I hardly know where to begin,” Irene murmured, distracted.
“Start at the beginning,” Nancy prompted gently.
“The beginning” Irene took a steadying breath. “Do you remember Dr. Margaret Thompson from our old surgery?”
“Thompson? Of course! A brilliant doctorshe saved my boys life, and countless others. Diagnosed illnesses others missed, treated children with such care. Never turned anyone away, even gave out her personal number. A true healer.”
“Exactly,” Irene nodded. “I owe her my daughters health too. If not for her well, things couldve been dire.”
“Why bring her up now? She retired years ago. Last I heard, she sang in the church choir.”
“Sang,” Irene corrected softly. “Shes gone.”
“What? But I saw her only recentlybright-eyed, smiling as ever. She didnt seem ill. Though, at her age eighty, wasnt she?”
“Nearly. And in good health.”
“Then how?”
Irenes voice hardened. “Her own children did this. Drove her to the grave.”
“Dont be absurd!” Nancy gasped.
“Its true.” Irenes face turned to stone, her eyes hollow with disbelief.
***
Margaret Thompsononce just Maggiemarried a young RAF officer, William, fresh out of medical school. She followed him from base to base, working wherever she was needed. Eventually, they settled in Manchester, where she joined the local clinic. By then, they had two children: Jane, her fathers image, and little Edward, her spitting double.
William served; Margaret held the home together while treating the neighbourhood children. The life of an officers wife was no easy thingchildren, household, dutyall on her shoulders. Add to that Williams temper She bore it with grace, never letting the world see her strain.
Margaret was adoredwarm, capable, the heart of their community. Edward, though mischievous, was everyones favourite, while Jane, sharp and solitary, worried her mother.
Then, one Sunday morning, William walked out without a word. The children were nearly grown.
Margaret had suspected his infidelity but stayed silent, refusing to make a scene. For the childrens sake. But William grew brazen, then moved in with a widow down the street. The town buzzed with gossip, but he soon retired, took his new family, and vanished.
***
Margaret was shattered. Twenty years togethergone.
Shed followed him through hardship, raised their children alone while he was deployed. The idea hed betray her never crossed her minduntil it did.
Yet she never spoke against him. Not even when the children blamed her for his leaving.
To them, he was the hero. Rare, indulgent, beloved. Shed taught them that herself.
***
The war at home began quietly.
Jane and Edward turned cold, dismissing their mother outright. She endured, hoping time would soften their hearts.
It didnt.
Jane left for university, married a wealthy businessman, and bought a flat in Manchesternot to live in, but to rent out. She visited once or twice a year, barely acknowledging Margaret or Edward.
Edward fared worse. By forty, hed burned through two marriages, fathered two children, and still strummed his guitar like a boy. His wives tossed him out, and where did he go? To Margarets, of course.
She took him in, guilt-ridden, believing his failures were her fault.
But Edward spiralleddrinking, vanishing to dodge child support.
“Good Lord,” Nancy breathed as Irene recounted it. “I had no idea.”
“Theres more,” Irene said grimly. “When Edward fled, Margaretdevoted to her grandchildrenrearranged the child support payments onto herself. She worked double shifts to cover it, even in retirement.”
“Why on earth?”
“For the children. And to spare Edward the consequences.”
Then he returnedwith a new girlfriendand moved back in. Margaret became their maid, their cook, while they lazed and drank.
A year later, he threw her out. “Youre in the way,” he sneered.
Neighbours found her on the steps, refusing help, certain her son would relent. He didnt. After days in the stairwell, someone called Jane.
She arrived, dumped Margaret in her own flat, and hissed, “Live here. Pay the rent yourself.” Then she left.
***
For months, Margaret thrived in peacegardening, joining the church choir.
Then Edward turned up drunk, demanding money. He took her pension card, her savings.
“How will I live?” she whispered.
“Figure it out,” he slurred.
Three months of rationing later, Jane stormed in. “Why havent you paid the rent? Now theres a fine!”
Margaret stammered an explanation.
Jane cut her off. “If you love Edward so much, live with him.” She packed Margarets bags and drove her to Edwards door.
He took one look and slammed it in her face.
An old friend found her weeping on the step and took her in.
“Thank heavens,” Nancy murmured.
“Briefly,” Irene said. “Six months later, the friend called Jane, furious. I wont house your mother any longer.”
Janes solution? A locked ward in a psychiatric hospital. No phone, no visitors.
Four months later, Margaret was gone. Jane collected the ashes without a word.
Edward, when asked, just shrugged. “Better when someone else foots the bill.”
***
No one knows where Dr. Margaret Thompson is buried.
But they remember herher kindness, her skill.
Some blame William. Most blame the children.
A few murmur, “Nothing happens without reason.”
And I? Ive learned this: love without boundaries breeds entitlement. A mothers sacrifice, if blind, can become her undoing.
