They thought I was just a generous old lady with one foot in the grave. When I spotted my own children discussing the headstone they’d already selected for me, I decided it was right time to reveal them that kindness ain’t the same as weakness.
I’ve lived for about 74 years and five months now, and during this time, I’ve experienced my fair share of ups and downs.
My name’s Martha, and I spent most of my life bein’ a mother to my three children. Betty is my oldest, Thomas is my middle child, and Sarah… she’s my baby girl.
Lord knows I gave ’em everything I had.
But as they grew up, got married, and had families of their own, I noticed they started havin’ less and less time for me.
The Sunday dinners at my house was the time when my family ate together.
“Mom, we’ve got soccer practice,” Betty would say.
“Mom, Thomas Jr. has a recital,” Thomas would explain.
“Mom, work is just crazy right now,” Sarah would sigh.
I understood. I really did. Life moves on, and young folks have their own lives to lead.
When my Harold passed away six years ago, that’s when things really transformed.
But after the second fall, when I laid on the kitchen floor for hours before the neighbor found me, my children decided it was time for the nursin’ home.
“It’s for the best, Mom,” they all agreed.
“You’ll have people to look after you.”
I’ve been here at this nursin’ home for four years now.
When I first arrived, I was scared half to d3ath. My room was tiny compared to the house I’d left behind.
Those first few months, I cried myself to sleep most nights.
But slowly, things changed.
My kids and their families? They barely visited.
But the moment my health started declinin’, everything changed. Suddenly, they were always around, dotin’ on me, actin’ like the most carin’ family ever.
Betty brought flowers. Thomas asked about my medication. Sarah actually held my hand while the doctor spoke. My grandkids even showed up, though most of them seemed more interested in their phones than in their old grandma.
The reason? My inheritance.
Plus, there was the life insurance.
It happened on a Tuesday.
Betty had called to check on me, and we’d had a nice enough chat. I told her about Gladys winnin’ at bingo three times in a row (that woman is either blessed or cheatin’), and she told me about her daughter’s dance recital.
When we finished talkin’, I was about to hang up when I realized Betty hadn’t ended the call on her end. I could hear voices in the background… Betty, Thomas, and Sarah, along with some of my grandkids.
“Mom’s sounding better today,” Betty said.
“That’s good,” Thomas replied.
“But we should still be prepared. Dad’s plot is paid for, and I’ve already reserved the one next to him for Mom.”
“Did you get the family discount from the cemetery?” Sarah asked.
Someone laughed. “I did better than that. I got them to throw in the headstone engraving for free. Just needs the date.”
“Has anyone paid for the monument yet?” one of my granddaughters asked.
“Not yet,” Betty said. “No one wants to front the money.”
“Someone can cover the costs now, and I’ll pay you back from the inheritance!” my daughter joked.
I moaned a lot that night in the hospital bed, but then my sadness was substituted with determination.
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That very night, I asked the nurse for an extra pillow, drank all my water, and took my medicine without complaint. By the end of the month, the doctor was astonished at how quickly I’d bounced back.
“You’re a fighter, Martha,” he told me with a smile.
“You have no idea,” I replied.
Once I was back in my room at the nursin’ home, I made some phone calls. First to my lawyer, then to my bank, and finally to my children.
“I need to talk to all of you about my will,” I told them. “I’m gettin’ old and after this scare, well, I want to make sure everything’s in order. Can you come to the nursin’ home this Saturday? Bring the grandkids and great-grandkids too. It’s important.”
When Saturday arrived, I had the nurses set up chairs in the community room.
“Mama, you’re lookin’ so much better,” Betty said.
“Thank you for comin’, all of you,” I said, smiling sweetly. “I know how busy y’all are.”
I nodded to Mr. Jenkins, who opened his briefcase and pulled out a document.
“This is my will,” I explained.
“It divides everything equally between my three children, with provisions for my grandchildren and great-grandchildren.” I paused, noticin’ how they all leaned forward slightly. “Mr. Jenkins will read it for you.”
When he finished, Thomas said, “That sounds very fair, Mom.”
“I thought so too,” I nodded. “But then I realized it wasn’t fair at all.”
Their smiles faltered.
“Mr. Jenkins, please read the new will.”
“I, Martha, being of sound mind, do hereby bequeath the following: To my children Betty, Thomas, and Sarah, I leave one dollar each. To each of my grandchildren, I also leave one dollar each.”
The room erupted in confused protests. Betty’s face turned red. Thomas stood up. And Sarah? She just started cryin’.
“What is this, Mama?” Betty demanded. “Is this some kind of joke?”
“No joke,” I said calmly.
“I done pulled most my money outta the bank, sold the house, and gave a big ol’ chunk of it to the nursin’ home’s Resident Support Fund and the Cancer Research folks… in memory of your daddy. Figured it’d do more good there than sittin’ in y’alls greedy lil’ pockets.”
“But… but that’s our inheritance!” one of my grandkids blurted out.
“Funny, I thought it was my money. Me and your grandpa worked hard for that money. Scrimped and saved every penny while y’all were too busy livin’ your lives to visit me more than five times in four years.”
The room went silent.
“I heard y’all, you know. Talkin’ about my cemetery plot and headstone. Laughin’ about payin’ for it with my inheritance. Did any of you ever think that maybe I wasn’t quite ready to be buried yet?”
Their faces showed suprise. And then shame. Good.
I looked around at their stunned faces.
“Now, if y’all don’t mind, I’m feelin’ a bit tired. Gladys and I have bingo at four, and I need to rest up.”
“You really givin’ all your money to charity?”
I winked at her. “Most of it. Kept enough for those trips, though. Wanna come to the Grand Canyon with me?”
She grinned. “You bet I do.”
As for me? I leave for the Grand Canyon next month. Turns out, life’s too short to wait around for a headstone.
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