THEY THOUGHT I WAS A SWEET OLD LADY WITH ONE FOOT IN THE GRAVE. WHEN I HEARD MY OWN CHILDREN 
TALKING ABOUT THE GRAVE MARKER THEY HAD ALREADY CHOSEN FOR ME, I DECIDED IT WAS TIME TO SHOW THEM THAT KINDNESS ISN’T THE SAME AS WEAKNESS.
They say life is a rollercoaster, and honey, I can attest to that.
I’ve been living for about 74 years and five months, and during that time, I’ve seen my fair share of ups and downs.
One day, life is great. Everything is going your way, and the next, something happens that turns your whole world upside down.
But you have to keep swimming. You have to go with the flow. That’s life. That’s what life is about.
No matter how old you are, you’ll always have something to worry about. Something that keeps you going.
My name is Martha, and I’ve spent most of my life being a mother to my three children. Betty is the oldest, Thomas is the middle one, and Sarah… she’s my baby.
God knows I gave them everything I had.
Every birthday, every Christmas, every scrape and bruise, I was there with open arms and a ready smile. Their father and I did our best to make sure they had opportunities we never had.
We weren’t rich by any means, but we managed to get all three of them into college. Lord, I still remember the day each of them crossed that stage. I sat in the crowd, wiping my eyes with a handkerchief, my heart bursting with pride.
But when they grew up, got married, and had their own families, I realized that they had less and less time for me. The phone calls that used to be daily became weekly, then monthly.
Sunday dinners at my house turned into only holiday visits. And when my grandchildren arrived (seven, if you can believe it), they were even busier.
“Mom, we have soccer practice,” Betty would say.
“Mom, Thomas Jr. has a recital,” Thomas would explain.
“Mom, work is crazy right now,” Sarah would sigh.
I understood. Truly. Life moves on, and young people have their own lives to live. Then the great-grandchildren started arriving. Now there are three little blessings I hardly know.
When my Harold passed away six years ago, that’s when things really changed. For two years, I tried to manage alone in that big empty house we had shared for nearly fifty years.
But after the second fall, when I lay on the kitchen floor for hours before the neighbor found me, my children decided it was time for the nursing home.
“It’s for the best, Mom,” they all agreed. “You’ll have people to take care of you.”
What they really meant was that they didn’t have time to take care of me themselves.
I’ve been in this nursing home for four years.
When I first arrived, I was terrified. My room was tiny compared to the house I had left behind.
In those first months, I cried myself to sleep most nights.
But little by little, things changed. I met Gladys, who lived at the end of the hall and taught me how to play cards. Then there was Eleanor, who shared my love of crime mysteries, and Dotty, who brought me homemade cookies when her daughter visited.
We became a little family. All of us abandoned in one way or another by the children we had raised.
My children and their families? They barely visited. Less than five times in four years, if you can believe it. Sometimes they called on birthdays or holidays, but most of the time, it was just a card in the mail.
I didn’t mind. That’s life, right? At least that’s what I told myself every time I saw other residents with visitors while I sat alone.
But as soon as my health started to decline, everything changed. Suddenly, they were all around, paying attention to me, acting like the most loving family.
Betty brought flowers. Thomas asked about my medication. Sarah held my hand while the doctor spoke. Even my grandchildren showed up, although most seemed more interested in their phones than in their elderly grandmother.
Of course, they all fought for a bigger piece of the pie (and to be fair, it’s a pretty big pie). Harold and I weren’t fools with our money. We saved when saving wasn’t easy, invested when people said we were crazy, and now that old house is worth three times what we paid for it.
And then there was the life insurance.
It would’ve been funny if I hadn’t overheard them talking about how they had already reserved a plot at the cemetery and even chosen a grave marker.
A Cemetery | Source: Pexels
Betty had called to check on me, and we had a pretty pleasant conversation. I told her that Gladys had won three times in a row at bingo (that woman is either blessed or cheats), and she told me about her daughter’s dance recital.
When we were finishing, I was about to hang up when I realized that 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 grandchildren.
A Woman Talking to Her Daughter | Source: Midjourney
“Mom sounds better today,” said Betty.
“That’s good,” replied Thomas. “But we still need to be prepared. Dad’s plot is paid for, and I’ve reserved the one next to it for Mom.”
“Did you get the cemetery’s family discount?” asked Sarah.
Someone laughed. “I did better than that. I got them to throw in the engraving for free. All that’s left is the date.”
My heart nearly stopped. They were talking about my funeral arrangements as if they were planning a picnic.
A Man Laughing | Source: Pexels
“Has anyone paid for the monument yet?” one of my granddaughters asked.
“Not yet,” said Betty. “No one wants to front the money.”
“Someone can cover the expenses now, and I’ll pay them back from the inheritance!” joked my daughter, and they all laughed as if it was the funniest thing they’d ever heard.
I hung up the phone with trembling hands. Is this what I get? After sacrificing my whole life for them? After every diaper I changed, every tear I wiped, every dream I set aside for them to have something better? Are they counting the days until I’m gone and divvying up what I leave behind?
Close-Up of a Woman’s Face | Source: Midjourney
I cried a lot that night in the hospital bed, but then my sadness turned into determination.
I’ve never been one to sit and cry for too long. After 74 years on this earth, you learn a thing or two about handling tough situations.
That very night, I asked the nurse for an extra pillow, drank all the 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 had recovered.
“You’re a fighter, Martha,” he said with a smile.
A Doctor Smiling | Source: Pexels
“You have no idea,” I replied.
Once I was back in my room at the facility, I made a few 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 getting old, and after this scare, I want to make sure everything’s in order. Can you come to the facility this Saturday? Bring the grandkids and great-grandkids, too. It’s important.”
Lord have mercy, you’ve never seen people drop their plans so fast.
Betty canceled a hair appointment. Thomas changed the date of a golf game. Sarah found a sitter for her dog. And every single one of my grandchildren suddenly had no plans for Saturday.
Two Boys Sitting on a Sofa | Source: Pexels
When Saturday came, I had the nurses set up chairs in the community room. As my family entered in single file, 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 papers.
“Mom, you look a lot better,” said Betty, kissing my cheek.
“Thanks to everyone for coming,” I said, smiling sweetly. “I know how busy you all are.”
I nodded to Mr. Jenkins, who opened his briefcase and pulled 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 how they all leaned forward slightly. “Mr. Jenkins will read it to you.”
As he read the details about the house, savings, investments, and life insurance, I watched their faces.
When he finished, Thomas said, “It seems fair, Mom.”
A Man Looking Ahead | Source: Midjourney
“I thought so too,” I nodded. “But then I realized it wasn’t fair at all.”
“Mr. Jenkins, please read the new will.”
He pulled out another document. “I, Martha, in full possession of my mental faculties, bequeath the following: To my children Betty, Thomas, and Sarah, I leave one dollar each. To each of my grandchildren, I 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 crying.
“What is this, Mom?” asked Betty. “Is this some kind of joke?”
“This is no joke,” I said calmly. “I withdrew almost all my money from the bank, sold the house, and donated a good portion to the Resident Aid Fund of the facility and to Cancer Research… in memory of your father. I thought it would do more good there than in your greedy pockets.”
“But that’s our inheritance!” one of my grandchildren blurted out.
A Young Man | Source: Midjourney
“It is?” I asked, my voice suddenly sharp. “Funny, I thought it was my money. Your father and I worked hard to earn that money. We pinched and saved every last penny while you were too busy living your lives to visit me more than five times in four years.”
The room fell silent.
“I’ve heard you all. Talking about my cemetery plot and my headstone. Laughing about paying for it with my inheritance. Did any of you ever think I wasn’t ready to be buried?”
Their faces showed astonishment. And then shame. Good.
A Man Looking Down | Source: Midjourney
“With the little money I have left, I’m hiring a full-time caregiver, and I’m 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, paying for your dentist, college, and weddings.”
I looked around at their stunned faces.
“Now, if you don’t mind, I’m a little tired. Gladys and I have bingo at four, and I need to rest.”
A Woman Looking Ahead | Source: Midjourney
When they left, Gladys turned to me. “Are you really donating all your money to charity?”
I winked at her. “Most of it. But I’m keeping enough for those trips. Want to come to the Grand Canyon with me?”
With this story, I don’t mean to suggest that you shouldn’t be kind to your children. God knows I don’t regret a single moment of raising mine. And I’m not saying you shouldn’t leave them an inheritance.
A Man Signing a Document | Source: Pexels
What I’m saying is that you 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.
And me? I’m going to the Grand Canyon next month. Turns out life is too short to wait for a headstone.
