My grandma was an incredible woman who did all in her power to keep our family close, but only she and I knew it was always a mission impossible. No one really cared about maintaining a relationship, because deep down, they all only cared about themselves.
Sadly, my grandma passed away, and all of a sudden, my entire family was there, attending her funeral. But the truth was that they only cared about her estates and money.
As we all waited for my grandma’s lawyer eager to learn how her inheritance was shared among us, my aunt Florence broke the silence. “Meredith,” she said, adjusting her expensive necklace, “remind me… what kind of doctor are you again?”
“I’m a nurse,” I replied politely.
Uncle Jack laughed, and said, “A nurse? All your cousins own successful business. Nursing won’t get you far.”
“I help people,” I said quietly. “That’s enough for me.”
My mom listened to the conversation and said, “Can’t believe I raised someone with no ambition.”
Truth is, my relationship with my mother was a tense one. We only talked to each other over the phone when Thanksgiving or Christmas came around, and that was it.
Mr. Johnson, Grandma’s long-time attorney, stepped inside carrying a briefcase. After a few moments, he turned to us and said, “I won’t take much of your time since Cassandra’s will is short.”
My mom was the first to argue. “What do you mean short?”
The lawyer then said, “Cassandra has not left any inheritance to any of you.”
Everyone started yelling and chaos erupted.
They all wanted to know where my grandma’s inheritance went and started accusing each other of a bunch of things.
What’s more, they had the audacity to call my grandma heartless.
And I? I was only interested about Bertha, my grandma’s dog. And the moment I asked about her, my mother and my aunt said the dog needed to be euthanised right there and then.
I said I would never let anything like that to happen, and asked the lawyer if my grandma wrote anything about Bertha in her will. He said she didn’t and that the dog could go to whoever wanted her.
Everyone said they would never take the dog of a woman who hadn’t left them anything, so I took her.
And just as we were about to leave, the lawyer told us to return.
“In fact, Casandra left everything to the person who took her dog in order to care for it,” he said. Everyone was stunned. My uncle said how he now wanted the dog, but the lawyer confirmed I was the one who inherited everything.
“Meredith, you grandma left a letter for you. She knew you would be the one to take Bertha after her passing.”
My mom, aunt, and uncle started yelling at me, demanding that I share my grandma’s inheritance with them. They even called me selfish, but I didn’t care.
It wasn’t that I cared about the money, it was that I knew my grandma wouldn’t want me to share it with any of them, so I didn’t.
In the end, Grandma was right: Love is the only investment that never loses value.
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Bored Daddy
Love and Peace
