I Tell My Son I’m Eating Well and Taking My Medication—But I’m Only Pretending, Because He Can’t Help Anyway I know I’m not the only parent who puts on a brave face for their only son—especially when he has a wife and three kids of his own. I pretend I’m getting by just fine, but the truth is, I struggle to make ends meet. These days, children rarely check in on their parents, and parents don’t want to burden them in return. My son never asks about the size of my pension. When my wife was still alive, one pension covered the rent and we lived on the other, but now, I’m forced to choose whether to pay the bills or buy groceries. My meals are just bread and cereal; rising food prices are all I can think about. As an old man, I have a drawer full of prescription slips for pills I can’t afford. I ration the tablets, taking them only when absolutely necessary instead of every day like the doctor said. Still, I would never ask my son for money—I know times are tight for him too. My daughter-in-law is home with their third child, the older ones are at school—which costs money—and feeding a family of five is a much bigger priority than supporting me. The only thing that really worries me is the debt on this flat, which my son will inherit one day—though he’s got no idea about that yet…

I tell my son little white lies about eating well and taking my tablets, simply because I havent much choice.

And lets be honest, I cant be the only father out there spinning these yarns for the sake of his only sonwho, incidentally, has his own bustling family: a wife called Clare and three little ones. I always tell him Im doing fine, living the high life, when truthfully, Im barely scraping by. These days, children seem to have very little interest in their parents lives, and parents, in turn, dont wish to be a burden.

Hes never once asked what my pension actually is. When my late wife was still around, her pension covered the rent and mine kept us afloat, but now its more a toss-up between paying the gas bill or picking up some groceries. My diet these days consists mainly of toast and porridge, which I barely give much thought toexcept when Im caught off guard yet again by the soaring price of teabags at Tesco.

As an old codger, I could fill a pharmacy with the number of prescriptions Ive been given, but affording them all is another matter. I ration my pillsonly taking them when I feel properly dreadful, rather than following the doctors instructions to the letter. Still, Id sooner walk barefoot through the snow than ask my son for money. I know its not easy on his side either.

Clare, my daughter-in-law, is stuck at home with their third baby, while the other two are off at schoolcosting a small fortune, of course. Keeping that family of five fed and clothed is no picnic and, lets face it, far more important than a pensioners dinner.

The only thing that really gnaws at me is the mortgage debt on this flat, which will be there for my son to inherit one daythough he hasnt the faintest clue about it yet…