Gary had visited his mom twice in the first three months she was in Autumn Meadows, then he never visited her again. When Edith phoned him, he was always charming but in a hurry, on his way to a meeting, or just plain busy. Three days after the funeral, Edith’s son contacted her lawyer and asked when he would start probating his mother’s estate. ‘Well, Mr. Norton,’ said the lawyer in an embarrassed voice, ‘I’ve already started…’ ‘You have?’ asked Gary. ‘But you never read us the will…’ The man coughed. ‘Well…I thought your mother would have mentioned it to you…’ ‘Mentioned what?’ asked Gary
“…that she cut you out of the will five years ago.”
Gary’s jaw dropped.
“What do you mean cut me out? I’m her only son!”
The lawyer sighed.
“Yes, but your mother left everything — her house, her savings, her jewelry — to the staff of Autumn Meadows. She said they were the ones who gave her love, care, and companionship in her final years. She told me, and I quote: ‘Family isn’t who you’re born to. It’s who shows up for you when you need them.’”
Gary felt the blood drain from his face. All the excuses, the missed visits, the ignored calls — and now, nothing was left but regret.
He left the lawyer’s office empty-handed, realizing too late that the wealth he thought he’d inherit was gone — and so was the woman who had once loved him unconditionally.
Some things, once lost, can never be reclaimed.
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