I Was Still Away Recovering When My Children Talked About Their “Early Plans” And Selling Everything From The TV To The Beach House. But The Shock Came When The Notary’s Office Called To Inform Them: “The Property Has An Owner – And It’s Not ANYONE IN THE FAMILY.”

The effort of speaking had drained what little energy I had, but a small sense of triumph burned in my chest. The first counter move had been made. The next day brought not only Harold to my room, but also my granddaughter Lily—her chestnut hair pulled back in a messy bun, dark circles under her eyes suggesting sleepless nights.

“Grandma,” she breathed, rushing to my bedside and carefully taking my hand. “They told us you might never wake up properly. That you might not recognize us.”

I squeezed her fingers weakly.

“No… you,” I whispered. “My Lily.”

Tears spilled down her cheeks. “I’ve been coming every day, but you were always sleeping.

The nurses said you needed rest.”

I hadn’t known she’d been visiting. My treacherous children had never mentioned it. Harold cleared his throat gently.

“Lily was concerned about some of the decisions being made. Victoria, she contacted me independently yesterday.”

I looked at my granddaughter with new appreciation. Smart girl.

Lily bit her lip. “Mom and the uncles are selling everything, Grandma. The beach house is already in escrow.

They’re having an estate sale at your condo next weekend.”

Her voice broke. “They’re even selling Grandpa’s record collection and your first edition books.”

The pain of this betrayal was physical. A tightness in my chest that the monitors quickly detected, sending my heart rate climbing.

Continue reading…