Inheritance and Fairness
Two years ago, when my husband and I visited my grandmother every day to care for her, none of our relatives even remembered she existed. Now that she’s passed and left us her flat, everyone has come alive like vultures, demanding their share. I still can’t believe how quickly people who hadn’t called or visited in years turned into fierce fighters for “fairness.” This whole ordeal made me see my family—and what truly matters—in a new light.
My grandmother, Margaret Thompson, was an incredible woman. Despite being ninety, she kept her spirits up until the end. But her health had been failing those last two years—she could barely leave her bed, her eyesight was poor, and she needed constant help. My husband, James, and I lived nearby, so naturally, we took care of her. I cooked, cleaned, and helped with her hygiene, while James took her to hospital appointments, bought her medicine, and fixed anything that broke in her old flat. It wasn’t easy—we had two children of our own, jobs, and responsibilities—but I never saw it as a burden. Grandma raised me when my parents were away, and I felt it was only right to look after her in her final years.
All that time, I hardly ever saw the others. My aunt, Elizabeth, lived in another city and only visited once a year with a box of chocolates and a few polite words. My cousin, Oliver, never showed his face—too busy with his career and family. The rest just rang occasionally to “check in.” No one offered money or time. James and I didn’t mind—we never expected help. But I never imagined how quickly things would change once inheritance was involved.
When Grandma died, James and I were devastated. Her passing left a huge void. But within weeks of the funeral, the calls started. First, it was Aunt Elizabeth. She came to our house and, without asking how we were coping, launched straight into the flat. “Emily, you know Mum’s inheritance isn’t just yours,” she said. “We’re her children too—we have rights.” I was stunned. She hadn’t been here for years, hadn’t lifted a finger—and now she claimed rights to the flat? I tried explaining that Grandma had left it to us because we cared for her. Elizabeth just scoffed. “That’s not fair. You just took advantage of being closest.”
Then Oliver jumped in. He sent a long message about how much he’d loved Grandma and how “hard” it was to accept that we got the flat. He suggested we “settle this fairly” and split it equally. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He hadn’t visited in a decade, didn’t even come to the funeral, blaming work. Now suddenly, this love for her? I told him the flat was willed to us—it was Grandma’s choice. He threatened legal action if we didn’t agree.
Things got worse. Even distant relatives I barely knew started hinting we should “share.” I felt cornered. We weren’t after the flat for money—it was an old two-bed in a rundown building, needing repairs. To us, it was precious because it held Grandma’s last years, the evenings we spent with her over tea, listening to her stories. Now those memories were a battleground.
James, as always, was my rock. He said we owed no one explanations—Grandma’s will should be respected. We checked with a solicitor, who confirmed the will was airtight. But even that didn’t ease the ache. I couldn’t believe family who’d forgotten her in life now fought over what she’d left behind.
One day, I called Elizabeth. I asked why she never helped if she now felt so entitled. She made excuses—her own problems, living far away, “it’s complicated.” But it just sounded hollow. Then she said, “Emily, don’t be greedy—we’re family.” That broke me. Greedy? Me, who’d changed her sheets, taken her to doctors, sat up with her at night? I hung up and cried.
Now, James and I are trying to close this chapter. We won’t cave—the flat stays as Grandma wished. But this has left a mark. I can’t see my family the same way. People I thought I knew showed their true colours when money came into it. Still, I’m grateful for one thing—it reminded me real family is those who stand by you, not for gain, but for love. For me, that’s James, our kids, and the memory of Grandma, who’ll always be in my heart.
