‘Love is the greatest inheritance,’ my late grandmother once said. It took pretending to be deaf and reading her will for her greedy children to finally understand what she meant.
My name is Emily, and now I’m going to tell you how my 89-year-old grandmother Rosalind taught me a priceless lesson that changed my life forever…
A week before my grandmother’s 89th birthday, my dad came home looking ashen.
‘Emily,’ he whispered, his voice trembling. ‘Grandma’s in the hospital. The doctors… they said she’s lost her hearing.’
It felt like my world had fallen apart. How could this have happened? Just yesterday we were laughing at her silly stories.
‘But… but she was fine!’ I protested, tears welling up in my eyes. ‘We were gardening, baking and…’
Dad pulled me close and hugged me. ‘I know, sweetheart. It happened suddenly. The doctors said it’s not uncommon at her age.’
Despite the diagnosis, we decided to throw Grandma a birthday party anyway. She deserved it, deaf or not.
‘We’ll make it special,’ Mum said, her voice filled with love and determination. ‘Emily, why don’t you make a photo album? I’m sure Grandma would love that.’
I smiled, wiping away my tears as I helped Mum set the table for dinner. ‘Yes, I’ll do that. She always loved looking at old photos.’
My grandmother’s 89th birthday party was in full swing, but something was wrong. I was sitting next to my grandmother, showing her photos on my phone, when I heard my Uncle Bill’s rumbling voice.
‘If we don’t get the house, I’ll fight for it in court. Don’t you understand that she’s old and senile?’ he hissed, glaring at my grandmother.
I was shocked. How could he say that about my grandmother?
Aunt Sarah joined the conversation, her voice full of contempt. ‘Oh yes, brother! Her words cannot be trusted. I can’t wait to buy that wonderful farmhouse she owns in Boston.’
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. These were the same people who had been smiling and hugging Grandma just a few minutes ago.
‘Hey!’ I shouted, my face burning with anger. ‘How can you talk about Grandma like that?’
Uncle Bill looked at me with a smirk. ‘Shut up, silly girl. This is a grown-up conversation.’
Looking at Grandma, I expected to see hurt in her eyes. But instead, I saw… a glimmer of something else. Maybe it was… amusement?
I shook my head, pushing the thought away. The poor woman couldn’t hear them, and in a way, I was glad. Their cruel words would have broken her heart.
‘Are you all right, Granny?’ I asked, momentarily forgetting that she couldn’t hear me.
She patted my hand and smiled.
Later that evening, when everyone had gone home, I found Granny sitting in her favourite chair, looking out the window.
‘Grandma?’ I said quietly as I approached her.
I was surprised when she turned and looked at me. ‘Emily, dear. Come sit with me.’
I froze. ‘Grandma? Can you… can you hear me?’
She chuckled, a familiar sparkle appearing in her eyes. ‘Sweetheart, I know everything. Who said I was completely deaf? I can hear a little.’
My jaw dropped. ‘But… but at the party… Uncle Bill and Aunt Sarah…’
‘I know what they said,’ she sighed. ‘And I know they’re all waiting for me to die.’
I hugged her tightly, tears streaming down my face. ‘I’m so sorry, Grandma. They’re horrible!’
She wiped my tears away. ‘Don’t cry, my dear. We’ll teach them a lesson they’ll never forget.’
Over the next few days, Grandma and I worked out our plan. I bought several small voice recorders, and we set about capturing the true nature of our relatives.
‘Remember, Emily,’ Grandma said as we worked. ‘This isn’t about revenge. It’s about revealing the truth.’
I nodded, although part of me couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction at the thought of exposing their true colours.
We recorded more and more cruel words from my aunts and uncles, and my heart broke into a million pieces. Their voices, filled with greed and mockery, filled the tiny voice recorders:
‘I can’t wait for that old bat to kick the bucket.’
‘Maybe we should help her? It’s for her own good.’
‘God, why doesn’t she just die? I have plans for that beach house.’
Every word stabbed me like a knife.
I looked at my grandmother: her weathered hands trembled slightly as she listened. Her eyes, once so bright and full of life, now glistened with unshed tears.
‘How can they be so heartless?’ I whispered. ‘Grandma, they’re your children. How can they say such terrible things?’
Grandma squeezed my hand, her touch as gentle as ever. ‘Oh, my dear Emily,’ she murmured, her voice trembling. ‘Sometimes the people who should love us the most cause us the deepest pain.’
Hot tears streamed down my cheeks. How could they do this to the woman who loved them, raised them, and gave them everything? Now they circled above her like vultures, eagerly awaiting her death.
‘Does it hurt, Grandma?’ I asked.
She smiled sadly. ‘Of course it hurts, dear. But it also shows me who really cares. And that’s more valuable than any wealth. Remember… love is the greatest inheritance.’
A week later, Grandma passed away peacefully in her sleep, which horrified me. The funeral was gloomy, with relatives shedding crocodile tears as they looked at Grandma’s belongings.
‘Such a tragedy,’ Aunt Sarah croaked, scanning the room. ‘I will miss her so much.’
I bit my tongue, knowing what was coming next.
The funeral was over. Three days later, we all gathered at the solicitor’s office for the reading of the will.
Our family lawyer, Mr. Thompson, cleared his throat. ‘Before we begin, I have a special request for Mrs. Rosalind.’
He placed seven small boxes and envelopes on the table, each with a name written on it. Everyone except me got one.
‘Emily,’ said Mr. Thompson, ‘your grandmother left something else for you.’
Inside each box was a small tape recorder. My heart pounded as I watched my relatives rummage through their boxes.
Uncle Bill played his recording first. His own voice filled the room: ‘I can’t wait for that old bat to kick the bucket.’
Next, Aunt Sarah’s tape recorder played: ‘God, why won’t she just die? I have plans for that beach house.’
One by one, each tape recorder played back all the nasty things they had said about Grandma. The colour drained from their faces as they realised the truth.
Oh, you petty creatures! Grandma wasn’t deaf at all.
‘YOU!’ Uncle Bill pointed at me, his face red with anger. ‘You did this!’
I stood my ground. ‘No, Uncle Bill. You did this to yourselves. All of you.’
When the last recording ended, I couldn’t help but smile. Grandma had outsmarted them all.
‘Emily,’ Mr. Thompson said, handing me an envelope. ‘This is for you.’
With trembling hands, I opened it. Inside was a letter written in Grandma’s elegant handwriting:
“My dear Emily,
You were the only one who saw me for who I am, not who I was. Your love was pure and unconditional. That is why I am leaving everything to you. Use it wisely and always remember: love is the greatest inheritance of all.
With love,
Grandmother”
I pressed the letter to my chest, tears streaming down my face. I realised that my grandmother had given me something far more valuable than money or property. She had taught me the true meaning of love and family.
And what about my relatives? Each of them received an envelope containing one dollar and a note that read, ‘I hope this is enough! Good luck!’
The events that followed were chaotic. Uncle Bill threatened to contest the will, but Mr. Thompson quickly shut him down.
‘Mrs Rosalind was of sound mind when she made this will,’ he stated firmly. ‘And, considering the evidence we have just heard, I would say that her decisions were entirely reasonable.’
We left the office, and Dad took me aside. ‘Emily, I’m so proud of you. And I’m sorry I didn’t notice what was going on before.’
I hugged him tightly. ‘It’s okay, Dad. Grandma knew you loved her. That’s what matters most.’
Ten years have passed. But I still miss my grandmother terribly. Her last lesson remains with me: love your family unconditionally, because nothing in this world is forever. Not money, not possessions. Only love.
And remember that sometimes the quietest voices can say the most. Listen carefully… you never know what you might learn.
