Five years without a visit from my kids, but a change in my will brought them running.
Ive got two sons, three grandkids, two daughters-in-law and I live like an orphan. For years, I thought Id raised lads whod look after me one day. But life showed me otherwise. Since my husband passed five years ago, not one of them has stepped foot in my house. No calls, no letters, no visits. Until the day I said out loud: “Im leaving my flat to my niece.” And just like magic, they turned up.
I had two boys and thought myself luckythey say sons are always closer to their mums. I believed I wouldnt end up alone. My husband and I did everything for themlove, schooling, helping them start their lives. While their dad was alive, theyd drop by occasionally. But the minute we buried him, it was like I stopped existing.
They live in the same town, just forty minutes by bus. Both married, each with their own families. Ive got two grandsons and a granddaughter Ive never met. After a fall, I struggle to walk, but for them, theres never timealways too busy, ignoring my calls, promising to ring back and never doing it. Ive gotten used to their promises meaning nothing.
When the neighbours flooded my place, I rang the eldestno answer. Called the younger onepromised hed come, but never did. All I needed was someone to paint over the ceiling stain. Ended up hiring a decorator. It wasnt the money that hurtit was realising two sons couldnt spare an hour for their mum.
When my fridge packed in, I rang them again. Just wanted someone to help me pick a new one, worried Id get scammed. Their answer? “Mum, dont stress, the salespeople will explain everything.” In the end, my brother and niece took me.
Then came the pandemic. Suddenly, they remembered me. Started calling once a month: “Dont go out,” “order shopping online,” “be careful.” But I didnt know how. My niece taught meshowed me the apps, brought me medicine, stayed when I was ill. Every night, shed ring: “Auntie Anne, you alright?” We grew closer than I ever was with my own boys.
I began spending holidays with my brothers family. My nieces little girl calls me “Gran.” And at some point, it hit me: I may have sons, but my niece is my family. She doesnt ask for anything. Shes just there. Looks after me. Helps me.
So I decided: if my boys have forgotten me, the flat goes to the one who stood by me. I changed my will in her name. She doesnt even know. Just wanted to do right by the one whos always cared.
But someone, of course, couldnt keep quiet. That same day, my eldest rang. Voice tight, words sharp. Asked if it was truewas I really leaving the flat to someone else? When I said yes, he shouted: “Youve lost it! How could you? Thats family property!” I hung up.
That night, there was a knock at my door. Both of them stood there. With a cake. With the granddaughter Id never seen. All smiles, all charm. Then it started: “You cant do this,” “shell kick you out,” “were your sons,” “youre giving our home to a stranger.” I listened silently. Then I said: “Thanks for your concern. My minds made up.”
They left, slamming the door. Said if I signed the papers, I could forget their help and never see my grandkids again. But darlingsI havent seen hide nor hair of you in years. Only indifference. You turned up after five years because you realised what youd lose. Not your mum. The flat.
No regrets. If my niece ever turns her back on me, thats life. But I doubt it. Shes kind, honest, true. And you? Well, live with your consciences. If youve still got them.
