When my grandfather passed away, it hit me hard. He was the one person I could always count on — the one who told me stories at bedtime, slipped me candy when Mom wasn’t looking, and gave the best advice when life got rough.
So when the day came to read his will, I showed up heartbroken but hopeful, believing he would’ve left me something to remember him by. The lawyer started reading, and I sat silently as my siblings — every single one of them — were gifted enormous sums of money. We’re talking millions. They gasped, cried, hugged each other. And then… nothing. My name didn’t come up.
