They thought I was just a kind old lady with one foot in the grave. When I heard my own children discussing the headstone they had already chosen for me, I decided it was high time I showed them that kindness is not synonymous with weakness.
They say life is a roller coaster ride, and honey, I can certainly attest to that.
I’ve been alive for about 74 years and five months now, and during that time I’ve had my share of ups and downs.
A woman looking outside a window | Source: Midjourney
One day, life is beautiful. Everything is going just as you want it to, and the next moment, something happens that makes your whole world crumble.
But you have to keep swimming. You have to keep going with the flow. That’s life.
No matter how old you are, you’ll always have something to fear. Something that keeps you going.
A woman sitting on a bed | Source: Pexels
My name is Martha, and I’ve spent most of my life being a mother to my three children. Betty is my eldest, Thomas is my middle child, and Sarah… she’s my granddaughter.
God knows I gave them everything I had.
Every birthday, every Christmas, every scrape, I was there with open arms and a smile on my face. Their dad and I worked hard to give them opportunities we never had.
Children hugging each other | Source: Pexels
We weren’t rich, far from it, but we managed to send all three of them to university. God, I still remember the day each of them walked through the university gates. I was sitting in the crowd, dabbing my eyes with a handkerchief, my heart ready to burst with pride.
But as they grew older, married, and started families of their own, I noticed they had less and less time for me. Phone calls that used to be daily became weekly, then monthly.
A phone on a desk | Source: Pexels
Sunday dinners at my house dwindled to holiday visits. And when my grandchildren arrived (seven, if you can believe it), they were even busier.
“Mom, we have soccer practice,” Betty said.
“Mom, Thomas Jr. has a recital,” Thomas explained.
“Mom, work is crazy right now,” Sarah sighed.
I understood. I really understood. Life moves on, and young people have their own lives to lead. Then the great-grandchildren started arriving. Now they’re three little blessings I barely know.
Close-up of a sleeping baby | Source: Pexels
When my Harold died six years ago, things really changed. For two years, I tried to manage alone in this big, empty house we had shared for nearly fifty years.
But after the second fall, where I lay on the kitchen floor for hours before the neighbor found me, my children decided it was time to go to the nursing home.
“It’s better this way, Mom,” they all agreed. “You’ll have people to take care of you.”
What they meant was that they didn’t have time to take care of me themselves.
I have been in this retirement home for four years now.
A path leading to a retirement home | Source: Midjourney
When I arrived, I was terrified. My room was tiny compared to the house I had left behind.
For the first few months, I cried myself to sleep almost every night.
But slowly, things changed. I met Gladys down the hall, who taught me how to play bridge. Then there was Eleanor, who shared my love of mystery novels, and Dotty, who would sneak home-baked cookies home when her daughter visited.
A stack of cookies | Source: Pexels
We became a small family of our own. We were all abandoned in one way or another by the children we had raised.
My children and their families? They barely visited us. Less than five times in four years, if you can believe it. Sometimes they called for birthdays or holidays, but more often than not, it was just a card in the mail.
I didn’t mind. That’s just how life is, isn’t it? At least, that’s what I told myself every time I saw other residents with visitors while I was sitting alone.
An old woman sitting alone | Source: Midjourney
But as soon as my health began to decline, everything changed. Suddenly, they were always there, surrounding me, behaving like the most caring family ever.
Betty brought flowers. Thomas asked about my medication. Sarah held my hand while the doctor spoke. My grandchildren even came, although most of them seemed more interested in their phones than their old grandmother.
The reason? My heritage.
Documents on a desk | Source: Midjourney
Of course, they were all fighting for a bigger piece of the pie (and to be honest, it’s a very big pie). Harold and I weren’t fools with our money. We saved when it wasn’t easy, we invested when people said we were crazy, and now this old house is worth three times what we paid for it.
Plus, there was life insurance.
It would have been funny if I hadn’t heard them talking about the fact that they had already reserved a burial plot for me and even chosen a tombstone.
A cemetery | Source: Pexels
It happened on a Tuesday.
Betty had called to check on me, and we had a pleasant enough conversation. I told her that Gladys had won bingo three times in a row (that woman is either blessed or a cheat), and she told me about her daughter’s dance recital.
When we finished talking, 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, as well as some of my grandchildren.
A woman talking to her daughter | Source: Midjourney
“Mom seems better today,” Betty said.
“That’s good,” Thomas replies. “But we still need to get ready. 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 asks.
Someone laughed. “I did better than that. They offered me the tombstone engraving. All it takes is the date.”
My heart almost stopped. They were discussing my funeral as if it were a picnic.
A man laughing | Source: Pexels
“Has anyone paid for the monument yet?” one of my granddaughters asked.
“Not yet,” Betty replied. “No one wants to advance the money.”
“Someone can cover the costs now, and I’ll pay you back from the inheritance!” my daughter joked, and they all laughed like it was the funniest thing they’d ever heard.
I hung up the phone, shaking. Is this what I get? After sacrificing my whole life for them? After every diaper I’ve changed, every tear I’ve wiped away, every dream I’ve put aside so they could have something better? They’re counting down the days until I’m gone and dividing up what I’ll leave behind?
Close-up of a woman’s face | Source: Midjourney
I cried a lot that night in the hospital bed, but my sadness was then replaced by determination.
I’ve never been one to sit and cry for long. After 74 years on this earth, you learn a thing or two about how to handle tricky situations.
That same evening, I asked the nurse for an extra pillow, drank all my water, and took my medication without complaint. By the end of the week, I was sitting up. And by the end of the month, the doctor was surprised at how quickly I’d bounced back.
“You’re a fighter, Martha,” he said, smiling.
A smiling doctor | Source: Pexels
“You have no idea,” I replied.
Once back in my room at the nursing home, I made a few phone calls. First to my lawyer, then to my bank, and finally to my children.
“I need to tell you all about my will,” I told them. “I’m getting old, and after this scare, well, I want to make sure everything is in order. Can you come to the nursing home this Saturday? Bring the grandchildren and great-grandchildren too. It’s important.”
God have mercy, you have never seen people abandon their plans so quickly in your life.
Betty canceled a hair appointment. Thomas postponed a golf game. Sarah found a babysitter for her dog. And all my grandchildren suddenly had nothing planned for Saturday.
Two boys sitting on a sofa | Source: Pexels
When Saturday arrived, I asked the nurses to set up chairs in the day room. As my family filed in, including some I hadn’t seen in years, I sat at the head of the table. My lawyer, Mr. Jenkins, sat next to me with a briefcase full of documents.
“Mom, you look much better,” Betty said, kissing me on the cheek.
“Thank you for coming, all of you,” I said, smiling kindly. “I know you’re all very busy.”
I nodded to Mr. Jenkins, who opened his briefcase and took out a document.
A document on a table | Source: Midjourney
“This is my will,” I explained. “It divides everything equally among my three children, with provisions for my grandchildren and great-grandchildren.” I paused, noticing they were all leaning forward slightly. “Mr. Jenkins will read it for you.”
As he read the details about the house, savings, investments, and life insurance, I watched their faces.
They looked relieved.
When he finished, Thomas said, “That sounds very fair, Mom.”
A man looking straight ahead | Source: Midjourney
“That’s what I thought too,” I agreed. “But then I realized it wasn’t fair at all.”
Their smiles faltered.
“Mr. Jenkins, please read the New Testament.”
He took out another document. “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.”
A man reading a document | Source: Midjourney
The room erupted in confused protests. Betty’s face turned red. Thomas stood up. And Sarah? She started to cry.
“What is this, Mom?” Betty asks. “Is this some kind of joke?”
“This is no joke,” I said calmly. “I withdrew most of my money from the bank, sold the house, and gave a good portion of it to the retirement home’s resident assistance fund and to cancer research… in memory of your dad. I figured it would do more good there than stay in your greedy little pockets.”
“But… but it’s our heritage!” exclaims one of my grandchildren.
A young man | Source: Midjourney
“Is that it?” I asked, my voice suddenly sharp. “Funny, I thought it was my money. Your grandfather and I worked hard for this money. We saved every penny while you were all too busy living your lives to visit me more than five times in four years.”
The room fell silent.
“I’ve heard you all, you know. Talking about my burial plot and my headstone. You don’t care what I paid for with my inheritance. Have any of you ever thought that maybe I’m not quite ready to be buried?”
Their faces are shocked. Then shame. It’s good.
A man looking down | Source: Midjourney
“With what’s left of my money, I’m hiring a full-time caretaker and going to see the Grand Canyon. And Paris. And all those places your father and I dreamed of but never saw because we were too busy raising you and paying for your braces, college, and weddings.”
I looked around at their stunned faces.
“Now, if you don’t mind, I’m feeling a little tired. Gladys and I have bingo at four o’clock and I need to rest.”
A woman looking straight ahead | Source: Midjourney
After they left, Gladys turned to me. “Do you really give all your money to charity?”
I winked at him. “Most of it. But I saved enough for these trips. Want to come to the Grand Canyon with me?”
She smiled. “Of course!”
I’m not telling this story to suggest that you shouldn’t be kind to your children. God knows I don’t regret raising mine for a single moment. And I’m not saying you shouldn’t leave them an inheritance either.
A man signing a document | Source: Pexels
What I mean is, teach your children that love isn’t measured in dollars and cents. Teach them that you are more than what you can give them. And remember, being kind doesn’t mean being a doormat.
As for me? I’m heading to the Grand Canyon next month. Turns out life’s too short to wait for a tombstone.
If you enjoyed reading this story, here’s another one you might like: I thought my aunt had saved the day when she took me in after I lost my single mother. But little did I know that living with her would become a nightmare until a stranger came knocking on my door on my sixteenth birthday and changed my life for the better!
This work is inspired by real events and people, but has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the story. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or to actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims regarding the accuracy of events or character portrayals and are not responsible for any misinterpretations. This story is provided “as is,” and all opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the opinions of the author or publisher.
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