My dad passed away, and his lawyer gathered us all to read his will. “For my daughter Lara, I leave the house and everything in it,” he said. My heart just stopped.
I was the one who fed Dad, bathed him, took care of him every day in his last years. And he left our house to my greedy, ignorant sister?! Then the lawyer turned to me: “And you, Kate, will get… this chessboard and its pieces,” and handed it to me!
Then suddenly, I heard this weird sound. THERE WAS SOMETHING INSIDE! I looked closer at that broken chess piece—there was a small compartment tucked inside.
My anger faded for a moment as curiosity took over. Why would Dad leave me something like this? What secret did he hide inside a simple wooden chess set?
Carefully, I opened the first piece. Inside was a tiny rolled-up note with Dad’s handwriting: “Kate, start with the rook.” Confused and trembling, I searched the rook next. It held another note, then another inside the bishop, the knight, and the pawns.
Each piece contained a memory—short messages Dad had written about moments only he and I shared. One talked about the day I learned to ride a bike and how proud he was that I never gave up, even after falling. Another was a thank-you for taking him to every doctor’s appointment with a smile, even when he knew I was exhausted.
The final piece—the king—held a longer letter. In it, Dad explained that the chessboard wasn’t just a gift. It was a message.
He wrote, “The house was where we lived. But you, Kate, were the one who gave me a life worth living. This chessboard holds every moment I cherished with you.
Look deeper.”Continue reading…
