I’m Hazel, 74, and life’s taught me to roll with its twists. I raised my kids—Grace, Mark, and Ruth—with all my love. My husband, Joe, and I worked hard, pinching pennies to get them through college. Their graduations filled me with joy, tears streaming as they crossed the stage. As they built their own lives, they drifted. Calls went from daily to rare, and our family dinners became holiday drop-ins. With seven grandkids and three great-grandkids, I got their busy schedules, but the silence stung.
When Joe died six years ago, our big house felt empty. I managed until a fall left me helpless for hours. My kids pushed for a nursing home. “You’ll be safe, Mom,” they said. I was terrified, swapping my home for a small room. I cried often, but friends like Joyce, who loves puzzles, and Pearl, who shares romance novels, became my new family. We all felt overlooked by our kids. Mine visited maybe four times in four years, sending cards for birthdays, while I sat alone, watching others with company.
When my health slipped, they were suddenly there. Grace brought tulips, Mark checked my tests, and Ruth held my hand at appointments. Grandkids tagged along, eyes on phones. I knew it was my money they wanted. Joe and I had saved well, and our house was worth a lot, plus insurance. One night, Grace called about Joyce’s puzzle streak. She didn’t hang up, and I overheard her, Mark, Ruth, and grandkids. “Mom’s better,” Grace said. “Good, her plot’s by Dad’s,” Mark replied. “Headstone’s free,” Ruth laughed. “We’ll use her cash,” a grandkid said, giggling.
My heart shattered. After giving them everything, they were carving up my legacy. I wept, then got fierce. I followed doctor’s orders, and soon, he was stunned. “You’re a force, Hazel,” he said. I grinned, “You don’t know the half.” I called my lawyer, bank, and kids. “We need a will meeting Saturday, bring all,” I said. They came quick—Grace canceled a trip, Mark skipped a game, Ruth found a sitter. Grandkids cleared plans. In the home’s meeting room, with my lawyer, Mr. Hayes, I spoke. “Thanks for coming,” I said.
Mr. Hayes read my old will, splitting my estate. They smiled, relieved. “That’s wrong,” I said. He read the new one: “To Grace, Mark, Ruth, and each grandchild, one dollar.” They erupted, Mark shouting, “A joke?” I said, “I sold the house, gave most to the home’s support and cancer research, for Joe.” Silence hit. “You planned my grave, laughed about my money. Visited four times in four years. I’m alive.” They looked guilty. “I’m hiring care, seeing Ireland, Greece.” I stood. “Pearl’s got book club.” Joyce asked, “All donated?” I winked, “Most. Greece with me?” She laughed, “I’m in!” Love your kids, but stand tall. I’m off to Ireland, thriving.
