My mom passed away last month after a long illness. She was a strong and caring person, and I was her sole caregiver during her final years. While she was sick, my brother and aunts hardly ever visited. Instead, they only came by to ask my mom to pay their bills or buy them nice things. It upset me to see them treat her like an open wallet, but Mom never seemed to mind. She gave to them whenever they asked, no matter how big or small their requests were.
When Mom finally took her last breath, my heart felt torn in two. The house was quiet and lonely. I had spent so many hours by her bedside, trying to make her final days comfortable, and now I had no idea how to move on. The only thing that kept me going was the thought that maybe she had left me some part of her estate. After all, I had been the one looking after her, and I hoped she appreciated that.
Still, I did not want to get my hopes up too high. My brother and aunts always seemed to have a strong grip on my mom’s finances. They were convinced she would give them everything when she passed. Even in the last weeks, they teased me, saying I shouldn’t expect much. Their attitudes hurt, but I tried to stay calm. I reminded myself that no amount of money would bring my mother back.
The day came for the reading of her will at the lawyer’s office. I arrived early, my stomach churning with anxiety. My brother and aunts showed up soon after, dressed in fancy clothes as if they were going to a party. They smirked at me in that smug way, already imagining the big fortune that would soon be theirs. I tried to ignore them and keep my dignity.
When we gathered around the lawyer’s table, he read the will in a formal voice. He announced that my brother and aunts would receive the entirety of my mom’s savings—five million dollars in total. My heart clenched. Five million dollars was an unimaginable amount of money for me, and it felt so unfair that the people who gave her so little love in her final years would get it all. They reacted with satisfied smiles, not even pretending to hide their glee. I could feel my face growing hot with anger and sadness.
The lawyer paused, then said, “That is not all.” I glanced up, hopeful. He cleared his throat. “There is an envelope addressed to you,” he said, turning to me. “Your mother wanted me to give this to you personally. She also instructed me to tell you, ‘Your Mom loved you more than anyone.’” He handed me a simple white envelope, worn at the edges, with my name scrawled in Mom’s familiar handwriting.
My brother and aunts stopped smiling for a moment. It was as if they sensed something unexpected was about to happen. I carefully opened the envelope, my hands shaking. Inside, I found a single piece of paper with an address written on it. No money, no letter, just an address I didn’t recognize. Confusion washed over me, and my eyes darted from the paper to the lawyer, then to my greedy relatives, who were peering at me with a mix of curiosity and suspicion.
My aunts sneered. One of them said, “Well, I guess that’s all she thought you deserved.” My brother tried to hide a smirk, but it was clear he was relieved I hadn’t been given any of the five million. I felt my cheeks grow hot again, but this time, the anger was mixed with a surge of determination. Why would Mom leave me only an address if she loved me “more than anyone”?
I left the lawyer’s office in a daze. That night, I couldn’t sleep. The address on the paper seemed to be somewhere a few hours away, in a small town I had never visited. Early the next morning, I decided to drive there. A part of me worried it could be some old family property that had fallen into disrepair, or maybe a place that held sentimental value. But I had to know what Mom intended for me to find.
The journey took me through winding roads lined with tall trees. The further I drove, the calmer I felt, as if my mother’s spirit was guiding me. After about three hours, I reached the place. It was a large, private piece of land, hidden by thick bushes and a simple wooden gate. The faded sign near the entrance read “Evergreen Cottage.” My heart pounded as I opened the gate and walked up a gravel path. At the end of the path stood a cozy-looking two-story cabin with a wraparound porch. Even from a distance, I could see it was old but well-maintained.
A gentle breeze rustled the trees as I climbed the porch steps. The front door was unlocked, which startled me. I pushed it open slowly. The interior was warm and welcoming, filled with comfortable furniture and photos of me and my mom from my childhood. How had she managed to set all this up without anyone in the family knowing?
I wandered from room to room, feeling tears prick at my eyes. There was a note on the kitchen table, written by Mom:
“My dear child,
I knew you wouldn’t fight your brother and aunts for my money. You have a kind heart, and I didn’t want you to argue with them. But I wanted you to have a safe place to call your own—a place where you can be at peace. This cottage is yours, along with the land around it. I hope you enjoy it and think of me with each sunset that falls on these trees. Love always, Mom.”
My breath caught in my throat. Yes, the five million dollars was gone to my brother and aunts, but this cottage—the land, the memories, and the love that came with it—felt priceless. I could sense how much my mom wanted me to have real happiness, not just money. Even though I was still hurt by how my relatives took everything else, my heart swelled with gratitude and warmth. I realized that my mom’s love was greater than any sum of money, and she knew that a home and the freedom it represented was the best gift she could give me.
I spent the rest of the day exploring the property, finding hidden corners of the land where wildflowers grew and where the sun filtered through tall pine trees. Each moment reminded me of my mother’s gentle spirit and the times we spent together, talking about life. As evening approached, I sat on the porch, watching the sky turn pink, thinking about what to do next.
Should I keep this place as my home and escape from the people who never cared for Mom the way I did? Or should I sell it and move on, starting fresh somewhere else with the money I’d earn? The decision weighed heavily on me. Part of me wanted to stay and honor Mom’s gift, but another part wondered if living in the cottage would be too lonely.
So, here is my question: if you inherited a peaceful cottage that came with loving memories but the rest of your family took all the money, would you keep the place to preserve your bond with your loved one, or would you sell it to begin a new chapter elsewhere?
