A poor nurse decided to care for her four elderly neighbors after realizing they only had one another to rely on for household chores. After the last neighbor’s death, the nurse discovers the will they left behind.
Cassandra Myers was a poor nurse who worked at a local hospital. Although nurses are generally paid well in America, most of Cassandra’s salary went to paying off the loans of her late parents, leaving her with just enough to get by.
Cassandra lived in her ancestral home, which was situated in a quiet neighborhood. Her next-door neighbors were four elderly siblings who were in their 80s.
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Time after time, Cassandra would see the siblings struggle with their everyday chores. In their old age, they had to carry their groceries, clean their house and yard, take out the trash, and cook for themselves every day.
Realizing they needed help, Cassandra offered to help them every time she got home from her hospital shifts. The four sisters appreciated this and genuinely enjoyed Cassandra’s company.
“You are heaven sent, Cassandra,” Marie, the eldest of the sisters, once told her. “Will you at least allow us to pay you for your help?” she asked.
Cassandra shook her head. “Oh, no, Marie. I will not allow you to pay me! I do this because I care for you, not because I want any money in return. Really, don’t worry about it,” she replied.
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Every day, Cassandra helped them by cooking their meals and washing the dishes after they ate. She also helped them individually, arranging their maintenance medicines and helping them dress up.
One day, while they were having dinner together, Cassandra asked them, “Why didn’t you ever go to a nursing home? Surely, they can take better care of you compared to me.”
Clara, another sister said they did not trust nursing homes. “We wanted to spend the remainder of our lives together. If we were put in a nursing home, we wouldn’t be able to sleep in the same room, and we’ll have to deal with so many other people,” she explained.
“We would rather spend the rest of our days surrounded by genuine love and care. We never know what other people’s intentions are,” Mindy, the youngest of the sisters, added.
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Cassandra nodded, understanding where the sisters were coming from. “Well,” she told them. “You don’t have to worry. As long as I am able, you can count on me for help,” she smiled. “That’s what neighbors are for!”
“You are the best neighbor anyone could ask for,” Lisa, the second-eldest sibling, told her, reaching out to touch her hand.
No matter how tired Cassandra was every time she got home from the hospital, she made sure to visit the siblings. They ate a meal together, and she would take care of everything they needed before returning home to sleep.
Unfortunately, as time passed, the inevitable began to happen. One by one, the siblings passed away, leaving Cassandra to organize their funerals and mourning their loss.
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When the last of the sisters died, she cleaned their home and attended the final funeral, where there were no visitors aside from a lawyer who introduced herself as Attorney Abigail Smith.
“You must be Cassandra,” Abigail told her. “Thank you for taking care of the sisters all these years. I’ve heard so much about you.”
Cassandra gave her a tearful smile. “They were a delight to be with. I will miss all of them dearly.”
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The lawyer revealed that Cassandra needed to visit her office that same week because there was something she had to discuss with her. Although Cassandra was confused, she promised to visit the lawyer’s office the following day.
When she got there, the lawyer handed her a document. “Lisa, Clara, Mindy, and Marie each had children. I know you’ve never met them because they didn’t bother attending any of the funerals, but they live in nearby states. When the sisters realized their kids didn’t care much about them, they decided to change their will,” she explained.
“They left everything to you,” Attorney Abigail revealed. “In the document, you will see everything you will inherit from them, including money, jewelry, and the house they lived in.”
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Cassandra’s jaw dropped. She couldn’t believe that her neighbors had left their entire estate with her despite having children. “It can’t be! I don’t deserve all of these,” she said, shocked.
Attorney Abigail shrugged. “You do, Cassandra. You were a daughter to them more than their own children. They saw you as the rightful heir to their fortune,” she assured her.
Cassandra didn’t know what to think. She was shaking when she saw the document that clearly stated she was to receive the fortune the four sisters left behind. She didn’t know what to do with the money but immediately realized that it was more than enough to pay off the remaining debts of her late parents.
A couple of days after the meeting, the four sisters’ children started calling Attorney Abigail for the will reading. When she revealed that the will did not involve them, they all wanted to contest the will in court.
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However, before they could do that, Attorney Abigail said that each child would receive a letter in the mail from their mothers. Each letter contained the same message:
“My dear child,
You might be wondering why I left you with nothing. You know that I love you dearly and that I am happy that you were able to start a new life without me in a different state. I am proud of all your success, but I always wished you would take time off your busy schedule to visit me and spend the last of my days with me.
I was deeply hurt and offended by the fact that you never paid attention to me after you moved. I had wished you’d come each holiday, but you never did. So I decided to leave my fortune to someone who was there for me all the years you weren’t.
I hope you accept and understand this decision. I know you are capable of living life without my estate, the same way you have been living without me all these years. Love, mom.”
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The children received the letters on the same day. They messaged one another through a group chat and decided to withdraw the lawsuit. They realized how terrible they had been to their moms and how they did not deserve to receive anything from them.
Cassandra never met any of the sisters’ children, but on each of the women’s death anniversaries, she’d see beautiful fresh flowers on their graves. This made Cassandra smile, knowing that the sisters’ children finally decided to pay attention to their mothers in the only way they could.
What can we learn from this story?
- When you’re in the position to help someone, do it. Cassandra helped her elderly neighbors without expecting anything in return. In the end, her neighbors believed she was the rightful heir of their estate after realizing she cared for them more than their own children did.
- Spend time with your loved ones before it’s too late. When the sisters died, their children realized how much time they wasted neglecting their mothers. They regretted not spending time with them when they were alive and were left leaving bouquets on their graves every year because it was too late to rewrite the past.
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I BURIED MY WIFE 20 YEARS AGO — YESTERDAY, SHE LITERALLY SAVED ME FROM A STROKE.
The rain hammered against the windshield, mirroring the storm raging inside me. It had been a year since the accident. A year since my wife, Emily, had vanished without a trace. The car, a mangled wreck, had been discovered at the edge of the Blackwood Forest, a chilling reminder of the day my world shattered.
The police had searched tirelessly, but to no avail. Volunteers combed the forest, their faces etched with sympathy, but their efforts yielded nothing. The prevailing theory, grim as it was, was that wild animals had taken her.
Emily’s mother, a woman of unwavering faith, had insisted on a funeral. “We need closure,” she’d said, her voice thick with grief. And so, we gathered, surrounded by the somber silence of the cemetery, to mourn a life cut tragically short.
But grief, it turned out, was a stubborn beast. It clung to me, a persistent shadow that followed me everywhere. I couldn’t escape the haunting memories – Emily’s laughter, the way she smelled of lavender, the warmth of her hand in mine.
And then, a few days ago, the unthinkable happened. I was at the local cafe, enjoying a much-needed cup of coffee, when a sudden wave of dizziness washed over me. The world tilted, the warm coffee spilling across the table. I slumped to the floor, the taste of bitter coffee and fear filling my mouth.
Panic surged through me as I struggled to breathe. Then, I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Sir, are you alright?” a concerned voice asked.
As I tried to focus, a face swam into view. It was a woman, her eyes wide with concern. “Can you pronounce this word for me?” she asked, her voice clear and calm. “Apple.”
I managed a slurred “Apple.”
“Good. Now, can you lift your right hand?”
I tried, but my arm felt heavy, unresponsive. Fear, cold and clammy, gripped me. What was happening?
Then, as my vision cleared, I saw her. Her face, pale and drawn, framed by a tangled mass of hair. The same captivating blue eyes, the same mischievous glint in their depths. And there it was, unmistakable, the crescent-shaped birthmark on the left side of her forehead.
It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be Emily.
But it was.
She looked at me, a mixture of disbelief and fear in her eyes. “Ronald?” she whispered, her voice hoarse.
The world seemed to tilt on its axis once more. I couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. All I could do was stare at her, at the face I thought I had lost forever.
How? How could she be alive? Where had she been all this time?
Questions swirled in my mind, a chaotic whirlwind of disbelief and joy. But one thing was certain: Emily was alive. And after a year of despair, hope had finally returned, brighter than any sunrise. The rain hammered against the windows, mirroring the storm raging inside me. It had been six months since the accident. Six months since my wife, Emily, had vanished without a trace. Her car, mangled and abandoned, had been discovered at the edge of the Blackwood Forest, a place where legends of the supernatural mingled with tales of real danger.
The police had searched tirelessly, their efforts joined by a tireless band of volunteers. But all their efforts yielded nothing. No trace of Emily. Just the mangled car, a chilling testament to the tragedy.
Emily’s mother, a woman of unwavering faith, insisted on a funeral. “We need closure,” she had said, her voice thick with grief. And so, we gathered, a small circle of mourners, to say goodbye to the woman I loved. It was a heartbreaking ceremony, a hollow echo of the life we were supposed to build together.
Life without Emily felt surreal. The house, once filled with her laughter and the clatter of her cooking, was now eerily silent. Every corner whispered her name, every familiar scent a haunting reminder of her absence. I spent my days adrift, haunted by the “what ifs,” the “if onlys.”
Then, came that fateful morning. I was at the local cafe, the rain mirroring the grey haze that had settled over my life. As I reached for my coffee, the world tilted. A wave of dizziness washed over me, and I crumpled to the floor, the hot coffee spilling across the table.
Suddenly, a pair of hands gripped my shoulders, steadying me. “Sir, are you alright?” A voice, concerned yet firm. I tried to focus, my vision blurring. Then, I saw her.
Her face, pale and drawn, was inches from mine. And there it was – the unmistakable birthmark on the left side of her forehead, a small crescent moon that I had kissed countless times.
Emily.
My breath hitched. “Emily?” I croaked, my voice hoarse.
Her eyes, wide with a mixture of shock and disbelief, met mine. “John?”
The world seemed to tilt again, this time with a dizzying sense of disbelief. How? How was she alive?
“I… I don’t understand,” I stammered, my voice trembling.
She looked around, her gaze landing on the concerned faces of the cafe patrons. “I… I can’t explain,” she whispered, her voice weak. “I woke up… somewhere. I don’t remember much. I was hurt, disoriented. I… I wandered for days.”
A flood of questions surged through me. Where had she been? What had happened? How had she survived? But before I could ask, she fainted.
As the paramedics rushed her to the hospital, I felt a surge of hope, a flicker of joy that I hadn’t felt in months. Emily was alive. She was here.
The days that followed were a whirlwind of medical tests, cautious questions, and whispered reassurances. Emily slowly regained her strength, her memory returning in fragments. She remembered the accident, the terrifying crash, the darkness that followed. She remembered waking up in a strange place, disoriented and alone, with no memory of how she got there. She had wandered for days, lost and terrified, surviving on berries and rainwater.
The mystery of her disappearance remained unsolved. The police were baffled, the medical professionals amazed. But none of that mattered anymore. All that mattered was that she was alive, that she was back in my arms.
Life after that was a slow, tentative journey back to normalcy. We faced countless questions, whispers, and curious stares. But we faced them together, hand in hand, cherishing every moment. The fear of losing her had cast a long shadow over our lives, but now, we clung to each other, determined to make the most of every precious day.
The accident had changed us, forever altering the course of our lives. But it had also taught us the true meaning of hope, the enduring power of love, and the incredible resilience of the human spirit. And as I looked at Emily, her eyes shining with a newfound appreciation for life, I knew that our love story, though interrupted, was far from over. We would face the future together, stronger than ever before, grateful for the second chance at the life we had almost lost.
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