At my grandmother’s funeral, I saw my mother quietly slip a small
package into the coffin. Curiosity gnawed at me, so later, I took it. When I looked inside, my heart sank.
The package held letters from Grandma, each revealing a painful truth.
She had discovered that my mother, driven by a gambling addiction,
had been stealing small sums from her for years. Grandma’s tone in the
letters shifted from concern to heartbreak and finally to resignation.
In her final letter, she made a clear decision: everything she owned would go to me, the one who truly loved her.
In a shocking twist, a recent letter from Mom was inside, written to Grandma
after her death, gloating that she would manipulate me into giving her
the inheritance. I knew then I had to confront her. Over coffee, I handed
her one letter and a note from me, warning her: if she ever tries to deceive me, everyone will know her secrets.
Some lies, I realized, can’t stay buried forever.
