I’m used to the idea that I won’t get any inheritance when my mother dies – it’s just the luck of the draw

The American polymath Benjamin Franklin once famously said, “But, in this world, nothing is certain except death and taxes.”

Yes, that’s fine Benjamin – but when, and how much?

The biggest problem for anyone attempting to plan their financial future is that none of us know how long we are going to live and what kind of a physical or mental state we might find ourselves in.

As far as I can see, there is a great deal of luck involved in how you see out your final days. Good for you if you stay fit and well, and can stay in the old family home with the apple orchard and pony in the paddock. Well done for evading the biggest bogeymen of old age: dementia, chronic illness and mobility issues.

But life can change on a sixpence, and this time next week you could be in a home that costs over a grand a week – in which case, depending on how long you need residential care, it could be goodbye pony and paddock.

As a woman in her sixties with a 92-year-old mother currently in an extremely well-run nursing home in Lancashire, I have always understood that at some point my mother’s property would have to be sold to fund her care home costs.

At the moment, we are using up her savings – and for this I must salute my mother’s natural tight-fistedness. Yes, on the one hand the home is eye-wateringly expensive, but she is beautifully looked after; and the alternative (which would be round-the-clock home help) could possibly cost more.

My mother has dementia. She is also partially disabled (thanks to polio, caught back in the 1950s). No one saw the dementia coming – she was driving up until the age of 89, when a cataract operation went awry, and the forgetfulness began to creep in. Pans started to get burnt, she forgot Alexa’s name – and her new kettle confused her.

Still, she kept everything together until a year ago, when a fall seemed to trigger a dramatic deterioration; and with a pandemic raging, the nursing home where my father spent the last few years of his life was the obvious solution.

She was lucky to get a bed. It was a huge relief: we knew the staff, the food is good and there are film afternoons, craft activities and the laundry service is amazing. My mother’s hair and nails are regularly trimmed and her clothes are immaculate. She could be happy if her mind didn’t play such terrible tricks on her, but she is very confused, needs constant reassurance and someone to keep an eye on her at all times – this doesn’t come free.

The state contributes a small amount towards her nursing care, but the bells and whistles extras, the creature comforts of the home are paid for by my mother and once the savings run out, her property will have to be sold, it’s inevitable.

Yet here’s the thing: my father didn’t pay for his stay in the same nursing home. He was taken from a hospice 10 years ago, doubly incontinent with complex medical issues, unable to walk and doubtless not expected to last long. Thanks to the expertise of the staff, my father survived another three years; poorly but compos mentis, in the same home, with all the same services, completely funded by the NHS. To be honest, we couldn’t believe our luck – it was like he’d been given scholarship to a really good school.

My mother, still mobile, despite a full-length calliper – and without any health issues apart from poor eyesight and dementia – is not deemed to be in the same medical category; and therefore, despite there being no practical alternative, must pay the bulk of the costs herself.

My attitude to this situation is one of resigned acceptance. It’s the luck of the draw – a few years ago I may have idly speculated how useful a small inheritance might be when the time came, but it was never going to be a life-changing sum; and so saying goodbye to the prospect of a nice little windfall has not been as painful as it might be for others.

I was going to have to share it with my siblings anyway, so while it would have been useful – and I may have used it to help my daughter buy property – I don’t see the prospect of losing it as anyone’s fault. That said, I can see why for some families it must feel like a financial disaster.

Personally, I don’t think many of us can rely on inheritance anymore. But the galling fact is that life isn’t fair, and there will always be some people whose parents die conveniently and cheaply and will therefore reap the rewards: “Oh, hello new extension.”

But for the rest of us who can’t deal with looking after our aged parents ourselves (because let’s face it, most of us couldn’t cope), then it’s just something you have to swallow. As my mother would say: “That’s the way the cookie crumbles.”