They Forgot Me at Grandma’s Funeral. So I Inherited Her House
The day of Grandma’s funeral was heavy with grief and solemn faces. Everyone was rushing—flowers, black suits, whispered condolences. In the chaos, they forgot me. I stood alone at the graveyard long after the cars disappeared, surrounded only by silence and the rustle of leaves.
At first, I felt hurt—how could they leave me here? But as the quiet settled, something shifted. The loneliness became peaceful. I could almost feel Grandma’s presence in the wind, as if she had stayed behind just for me. I thought about her stories, her laughter, the way her kitchen always smelled like apple pie. In that stillness, I felt closer to her than I had all day.