Losing a partner after forty years of marriage is a traumatic experience. The immediate feeling of loneliness is overwhelming, and it only intensifies as time goes by.

When my husband Henry passed away from a heart attack, I felt that loneliness more than anything else. The pain consumed me, and the only thing I wanted was to be surrounded by family.

I have two sons, Jack and Edward. Edward moved to Oxford right after finishing college, being offered an opportunity to further his studies. He calls me every evening to catch up on our days.

Jack, on the other hand, lives very close to me. He is married to Lucy and they have a son named after my husband.

So, now that I am alone in this big house that Henry bought when we started our family, I’m trying to decide whether to sell the house and live with Jack, as he proposed, or to move on my own.

I have decided to give living with Jack a try. It would have been the most comforting choice. But I couldn’t have imagined that Lucy had other plans for my accommodation.

I asked my granddaughter to help me pack my bags as I prepared to settle into my new home, with Jack and his family.

I was at their door, with my bags at my feet, ready to assume the role of a resident mother and grandmother, taking care of the kitchen whenever Lucy needed help.

Lucy opened the door with a cup of coffee in hand and told me that their house was full due to lack of space, and the only available room was Henry Jr’s room.

But she didn’t want to bother her son’s room or to change it or occupy it in any way. It was for Henry when he returns from his semester at university.

I understood. It was his space and I didn’t want to be a burden. But I assumed that Jack would have arranged something for me: he was the one who told me to move in with them if I wanted.

“Cecilia, we have a little problem with space, as you can see,” Lucy repeated.

“So, you have two options,” she continued. “It’s the basement or a senior home. You choose, mother-in-law.”

Now I really felt stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Let me tell you about their basement. It’s not the basement you can find in some houses: there is no space for play, sewing, or crafts. It’s not a comfortable guest room.

Jack’s basement is more like a cold and damp dungeon, with a creaky bed frame and a mattress with sharp springs.

It wasn’t the comfort I needed.

“Lucy,” I said, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. “Thank you for the options, dear. But I’ll pass on the basement and senior home combination.”

My son tried to be conciliatory.

He appeared from behind Lucy, putting his hands on her shoulders.

“Mom, I’m sorry. I didn’t think when I invited you to stay with us. Lucy is right. We have limited space. I promise I’ll get some furniture for the basement to make it more comfortable.”

Life in the basement wasn’t for me. A senior home wasn’t for me, at least not for now. So, I decided to solve the problem on my own.

I dragged my bags to the car and drove to my granddaughter’s house. I stayed there for a week, during which I searched for a place to rent.

The big house was already on the market, and once it gets sold, I knew I would have enough money to buy a small permanent place.

When everything was arranged, my granddaughter helped me move, and I felt empowered. Maybe I didn’t need family as much as I thought.

Edward was concerned that I would be alone, but I reassured him that I would be fine.

Shortly after, I moved into my new apartment—a comfortable place with a bedroom, perfect for me and the cat I planned to adopt. The advantage was that the apartment was fully furnished, so I didn’t have to worry about anything.

A few weeks later, Jack called me and invited me to dinner with him and Lucy. I drove to their house, wondering what they expected from me. We sat down for dinner, and I told them that I had bought an apartment and now live alone.

“I thought you would stay with Mia,” Jack said, referring to my granddaughter.

“You can’t be serious!” Lucy exclaimed at the same time.

“I stayed with Mia until I sold the big house and bought a small apartment. I never considered staying with her permanently.”

“You said you wanted to be close to family, that’s why we offered you to stay here,” Jack said, blushing.

“Of course, I preferred being with family, but if that meant choosing between a senior home or living in your dark and unwelcoming basement, I think I’m better off on my own.”

Then, I left.

A few weeks later, I adopted the cat.

But I also updated my will, leaving everything to Edward, who continues to deposit money into my account every month, despite me telling him that I don’t need it.

“A son should take care of his mother,” he said.

He also asked if I would consider moving with him abroad, but how could I do that? I needed to be close to where Henry rests, at least for now.

So, from the dilemma of the basement to a comfortable refuge of my own, life offers you many twists and turns.