My Grandkids Planned My Burial—They Forgot One Important Thing

My Grandkids Had Already Reserved a Cemetery Plot and Headstone for Me – but They Forgot That I’m More than Just Kind

They believed me to be only a kind elderly woman who was a little out of touch. I thought it was time to teach my own kids that kindness isn’t the same as weakness after I heard them talking about the headstone they had already chosen for me.

As they say, life is a rollercoaster, and I can attest to that, honey.

I have been alive for approximately 74 years and five months, and in that time, I have experienced many highs and lows.

Life will be wonderful one day. Everything is going your way, and then something happens that makes your entire world fall apart.

However, you must continue swimming. You must continue to follow the current. That’s life, everyone. That is the main purpose of existence.

You will always have something to worry about, regardless of age. Something that sustains you.

I’m Martha, and I’ve been a mother to my three kids for the majority of my life. Thomas is my middle child, Betty is my eldest, and Sarah is my baby girl.

I gave them everything I had, for heaven knows.

I was there with a ready smile and open arms for every birthday, Christmas, every bump and bruise. To ensure kids got chances we never had, their father and I put forth endless effort.

Despite the fact that we were far from wealthy, we were able to pay for all three of them to attend college. Lord, I can still clearly recall the day they all crossed that stage. I was sitting in the audience, wiping my eyes with a handkerchief, my heart nearly exploding with pride.

However, I realized that they had less and less time for me as they grew up, got married, and had their own children. Once daily, the phone conversations shifted to weekly and eventually monthly.

Only holiday visits replaced the Sunday dinners in my house. And my grandchildren—seven of them, if you believe it—were even busier when they arrived.

Betty would say, “Mom, we’ve got soccer practice,”

As Thomas would say, “Mom, Thomas Jr. has a recital,”

Sarah would groan, “Mom, work is just crazy right now,”

I got it. Yes, I did. Young people have their own lives to lead, and life goes on. Then the great-grandchildren began to arrive. These days, I hardly recognize these three tiny blessings.

Things truly changed six years ago with the death of my Harold. I spent two years attempting to live alone in the large, deserted home we had shared for almost fifty years.

However, my kids decided it was time for the Nursin’ to move in after the second fall, when I lay on the kitchen floor for hours before the neighbor discovered me.

All of them said, “It’s for the best, Mom,” “You’ll have people to look after you.”

They meant that they were too busy to take care of me personally.

It’s been four years since I moved into this Nursin’ house.

I was quite terrified when I initially got there. In comparison to the house I had left behind, my room was small.

Most nights during those first few months, I sobbed myself to sleep.

However, things gradually altered. I learned how to play bridge from Gladys, who I met down the hall. Then there was Dotty, who would sneak in handmade cookies when her daughter came to visit, and Eleanor, who loved murder mysteries as much as I did.

We formed our own small family. We were all left behind in one way or another by the kids we had reared.

My children and their families? They hardly ever came. If you believe that, less than five times in four years. Usually it was just a card in the mail, but occasionally they would call on holidays or birthdays.

It didn’t bother me. Well, that’s simply the way life is. At least that’s what I told myself every time I sat by myself and noticed other residents with guests.

But everything changed when my health began to deteriorate. All of a sudden, they were all around me, taking care of me, and acting like the most loving family ever.

Betty brought flowers. Thomas inquired about my prescription drugs. In fact, Sarah held my hand as the doctor talked. Even my grandchildren appeared, albeit the majority of them were more preoccupied with their phones than with their elderly grandmother.

Why? My gift.

Naturally, they were all vying for a larger portion of the pie—and, let’s face it, that pie is pretty large, y’all. Harold and I weren’t squandering our money. We invested when people thought we were crazy, saved when it wasn’t easy, and now that old house is worth three times as much as we spent for it.

In addition, there was life insurance.

If I hadn’t overheard them discussing how they had already reserved me a cemetery space and had chosen a headstone, it would have been amusing.

It took place on Tuesday.

We had a pleasant enough conversation when Betty called to see how I was doing. She informed me about her daughter’s dancing recital after I told her about Gladys winning bingo three times in a row—that woman is either blessed or cheating.

I was going to end the conversation when we were done talking when I noticed Betty hadn’t actually hung up. Voices could be heard in the distance. Sarah, Thomas, Betty, and a few of my grandchildren.

Betty replied, “Mom’s sounding better today,”

“That’s good,” said Thomas. However, we ought to remain ready. I’ve already reserved the site next to Dad for Mom, and Dad’s plot is paid for.”

“Did you get the family discount from the cemetery?” Sarah enquired.

Someone chuckled. “I performed better. I persuaded them to include the headstone engraving at no cost. Only the date is required.

My heart almost stopped. They were talking about my funeral plans as if they were organizing a picnic.

My granddaughter questioned, “Has anyone paid for the monument yet?”

“Not yet,” responded Betty. “No one wants to front the money.”

“Someone can cover the costs now, and I’ll pay you back from the inheritance!” When my kid made a joke, everyone laughed as if it were the most hilarious thing they had ever heard.

With trembling palms, I hung up. Do I get this? after giving up everything I had for them? I wiped away every tear, changed every diaper, and set aside every dream so they may have a better life. They’re dividing up what I’ll leave behind and counting down the days until I leave?

That night in the hospital bed, I sobbed a lot, but my grief was soon replaced by resolve.

I’ve never been one to spend a lot of time sitting and crying. Living on this planet for seventy-four years teaches you how to deal with difficult situations.

I took my medication without complaining, drank all of my water, and asked the nurse for an extra pillow that very night. When the week was over, I was sitting up. The doctor was taken aback by my speedy recovery by the end of the month.

“You’re a fighter, Martha,” he said, grinning.

I said, “You have no idea,”

I made a few phone calls after returning to my room at the Nursin residence. Initially to my attorney, subsequently to my bank, and ultimately to my kids.

Telling them, “I need to talk to all of you about my will,” “After this scare, I want to make sure everything is in order because I’m getting old. Is it possible for you to visit the Nursin residence on Saturday? Bring your grandchildren and great-grandchildren as well. It’s crucial.

You’ve never seen someone abandon plans so quickly in your life, so please have mercy.

A hair appointment was canceled by Betty. Thomas postponed a round of golf. Sarah was able to find someone to watch her dog. And all of my grandchildren abruptly had nothing planned for Saturday.

I instructed the nurses to arrange chairs in the communal room on Saturday. I sat at the head of the table as my family, some of whom I hadn’t seen in years, filed in. Mr. Jenkins, my lawyer, sat next to me, carrying a briefcase stuffed with documents.

Betty exclaimed, “Mama, you look so much better,” as she planted a kiss on my cheek.

“Thank you for coming, everyone,” I remarked with a charming smile. “I know how busy y’all are.”

I gave Mr. Jenkins a nod, and he took out a document from his briefcase.

“This is my will,” I made clear. “It divides everything equally between my three children, with provisions for my grandchildren and great-grandchildren.” I stopped and noticed that they were all leaning forward a little. “Mr. Jenkins will read it for you.”

I watched their faces as he went over the specifics of the house, the investments, the savings, and the life insurance.

They appeared relieved.

Upon his completion, Thomas remarked, “That sounds very fair, Mom.”

“I thought so too,” I replied with a nod. “But then I realized it wasn’t fair at all.”

Their grins wavered.

“Mr. Jenkins, please read the new will.”

He took out another piece of paper. “Being of sound mind, I, Martha, thus leave the following to my children: One dollar apiece to Betty, Thomas, and Sarah. I also left one dollar to each of my grandchildren.

Confused protests arose throughout the room. Betty’s cheeks flushed. Thomas got to his feet. Sarah, too? She just burst into tears.

“What is this, Mama?” Betty insisted. “Is this some kind of joke?”

Calmly, “No joke,” I said. “I took the most of my money out of the bank, sold the property, and donated a sizable portion to the Cancer Research organization and the Resident Support Fund at the Nursin’ Home in honor of your father. I reasoned that it would be more beneficial there than sitting in your avaricious little pockets.”

“But… but that’s our inheritance!” exclaimed one of my grandchildren.

“Is it?” My voice became abruptly shrill as I questioned. Oddly enough, I believed it to be my money. Your grandfather and I put a lot of effort into earning that money. While you were too busy living your life to come see me more than five times in four years, you scrawled and saved every last dime.”

There was silence in the room.

“You know, I heard you all. I’m discussing my headstone and cemetery plot. I’m laughing about using my inheritance to cover the cost. Have any of you ever considered the possibility that I wasn’t yet ready to be buried?

They seemed shocked. Then embarrassment. Excellent.

“I’m going to the Grand Canyon and hiring a full-time caretaker with the money I have left over. Paris, too. We were too busy raising you, paying for your braces, college, and marriages to visit all those locations your father and I had dreams about but never did.”

I glanced at their astonished expressions.

“Now, if it’s okay with you, I’m feeling a little worn out. I need to get some rest because Gladys and I have bingo at four.

Gladys wheeled herself up to me once they had gone. “You really givin’ all your money to charity?”

I gave her a wink. “The majority of it. But enough was kept for those travels. Would you like to accompany me to the Grand Canyon?

She smiled. “You bet I do.”

Now, I’m not sharing this story to urge you not to treat your kids with kindness. I have no regrets whatsoever about the time I spent raisin’ mine, Lord knows. Furthermore, I’m not saying that you shouldn’t give them an inheritance.

In other words, teach your kids that love isn’t quantified in monetary terms. Instruct them that you are more than your abilities. Additionally, keep in mind that being compassionate does not equate to being a doormat.

What about me? Next month, I’m heading to the Grand Canyon. As it happens, life is too short to wait for a headstone.