My Grandma Kept the Basement Door Locked for 40 Years – What I Found There After Her Death Completely Turned My Life Upside Down

I was folding laundry when I got the call I’d been dreading.

“I’m so sorry, Kate,” Dr. Smith said gently.

“She’s gone.”

I’d baked a chocolate cake for her birthday just last month.

Noah came running when he heard me crying. He held me close as I tried to accept that Grandma was truly gone.

We buried her on a windy Saturday.

Friends and what family we had all came to the funeral, but once they returned home, I was left holding the bag.

My mom was an only child, and Evelyn’s brothers were gone.

The rest were distant cousins.

“Do whatever you think is best with her things,” they all said.

So, a week after the funeral, Noah and I drove out to Grandma’s home. The house looked frozen in time — curtains open just so, wind chimes softly clinking.

Everything was exactly where she’d left it. Her slippers were by the couch, and her faint, sweet scent lingered in the air.

Noah squeezed my hand.

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