When my grandmother Catherine died, I lost not just family but my safe place. At her funeral, I noticed my mom slip something into the casket. Later, I discovered it — letters revealing she had stolen from Grandma, ignored her pleas, and was cut out of the will. One letter even admitted she expected me to give her whatever she wanted.
The next day, I confronted her. I gave her a package with Grandma’s final words and my warning: I had the rest, and the truth would come out if she tried to use me again.
Her smile disappeared. In that moment, I realized Grandma’s real gift wasn’t money — it was the strength to finally stand up for myself.
