The Emotional Fallout
“Remove your things from MY lawn, or I’ll call the police!” Jessica’s voice cut through the air, sending a jolt through me. I stood frozen, staring in disbelief at the mess in front of me. All of my life’s possessions, my family’s history, spread out on the lawn like junk at a yard sale. My daughter-in-law sat nearby, sipping coffee as if everything was normal. But soon, Matt would arrive, and everything would change.
Earlier that morning, I had been quietly sorting through boxes of Dad’s belongings. I wasn’t ready to face the will reading. It was too much. So I called Matt.
“Matt, can you go instead?” I asked. “I just can’t handle it.”
He hesitated. “Are you sure, Mom? I can help with Grandad’s things if you need me to.”
I forced a smile, even though he couldn’t see it. “I’m okay. Just come by later, okay? I’d like to talk about Dad together.”
I thought it would be straightforward. But when Matt returned, everything fell apart.
After picking up Dad’s things from the nursing home—a box full of his favorite books, his worn-out sweater, and the Bible he read every night—I came home to chaos. Mom’s china, Dad’s books, and even the quilt he loved were scattered across the lawn, exposed to the wind.
“What is this?” I whispered, my voice trembling.
Jessica sat on the patio, her legs crossed, looking smug. She didn’t even bother to look up from her phone as she said, “I’m making changes. This is my house now.”
Her words hit me like a punch. “What are you talking about?” I demanded, my heart pounding.
She waved a piece of paper in the air. “Dad left the house to me. It’s all legal.”
“No, he wouldn’t… he couldn’t…” I stammered, feeling like the ground had been ripped out from under me.
“Oh, but he did,” she said, standing up with a smirk. “So it’s time for you to leave.”
At that moment, Matt pulled into the driveway. He stepped out of the truck, his face a mask of shock.
“Jess, what the hell is going on here?” he asked, his voice low and angry.
Jessica tossed her hair back. “I’m making necessary changes, Matt. Oh, and by the way, I want a divorce.”
Her words echoed in the air, and Matt’s face went pale. “A divorce?” His voice cracked. “What are you talking about?”
“I deserve better than this family,” she said coldly. “Now that I have the house, I’m done.”
Matt’s expression changed from disbelief to rage. His fists clenched as he said, “You’re a selfish, manipulative woman.”
Jessica’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, please, Matt. You’ve always been a mama’s boy. You’ve never defended me.”
I couldn’t stay silent any longer. “Don’t you dare talk to my son like that!”
Jessica turned to me, her eyes blazing. “This isn’t your house anymore. Get off my lawn.”
I grabbed my phone and quickly called Dad’s lawyer. My hands were shaking as I whispered, “Please, tell me the truth. Did Dad leave the house to Jessica?”
The lawyer’s voice was calm. “No, Hattie. Your father didn’t leave her the house. He just wanted to see what she would do.”
Relief flooded through me, and I started laughing—deep, uncontrollable laughter that shook my whole body.
“What are you laughing at?” Jessica snapped.
“Oh, Jessica,” I said, still laughing. “You should’ve waited for the real will reading.”
Her face paled as realization hit her.
Matt stepped forward, his face hard. “Looks like Grandpa knew exactly what you’d do.”
Jessica’s confidence shattered. “Matt, wait—please. I didn’t mean it!” she pleaded.
But Matt shook his head. “You wanted a divorce? Fine. You’ve got it.”
Jessica stormed off, her heels clicking as she disappeared from our lives. As Matt and I picked up the pieces of my scattered belongings, I realized that Dad had given me the most important gift: the truth about who really mattered in my life.
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