I Bought My Late Mom’s House So My Sister Couldn’t Tear It down — Then I Found Her Real Will Hidden Inside

I wanted to say, “It’s harder for Mom,” but the words caught in my throat and dissolved before I could form them. I was exhausted, too tired to argue and too raw to correct her.

Everyone processes pain differently, Anna, I reminded myself. Not everyone knows how to sit still inside grief. But I did.

After the funeral, I flew back to Chicago feeling like a balloon someone had forgotten to tie down. I drifted through my apartment like a stranger. There was leftover food in the fridge that looked like an ecosystem was growing on it.

The milk smelled foul and looked worse. I remember standing in the kitchen, staring at a bag of unopened coffee beans, and realizing that I didn’t even remember buying them. “Get it together, Anna,” I told myself in the bathroom mirror.

“Mom’s at peace now, and it’s time you find your peace too.”

But peace never came. That night, Caitlin emailed me. The subject line was cold and clinical: “Mom’s Will.”

I opened it on my laptop, sitting cross-legged on my bed, my cup of tea forgotten on the nightstand.

The document loaded slowly, like it was preparing itself to hurt me. And it did. Everything, from the house to her savings to all of Mom’s belongings, was left to my sister.

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