A poor nurse decided to care for her four elderly neighbors after realizing they only had one another to rely on for household chores. After the last neighbor’s death, the nurse discovers the will they left behind.
Cassandra Myers was a poor nurse who worked at a local hospital. Although nurses are generally paid well in America, most of Cassandra’s salary went to paying off the loans of her late parents, leaving her with just enough to get by.
Cassandra lived in her ancestral home, which was situated in a quiet neighborhood. Her next-door neighbors were four elderly siblings who were in their 80s.
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Time after time, Cassandra would see the siblings struggle with their everyday chores. In their old age, they had to carry their groceries, clean their house and yard, take out the trash, and cook for themselves every day.
Realizing they needed help, Cassandra offered to help them every time she got home from her hospital shifts. The four sisters appreciated this and genuinely enjoyed Cassandra’s company.
“You are heaven sent, Cassandra,” Marie, the eldest of the sisters, once told her. “Will you at least allow us to pay you for your help?” she asked.
Cassandra shook her head. “Oh, no, Marie. I will not allow you to pay me! I do this because I care for you, not because I want any money in return. Really, don’t worry about it,” she replied.
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Every day, Cassandra helped them by cooking their meals and washing the dishes after they ate. She also helped them individually, arranging their maintenance medicines and helping them dress up.
One day, while they were having dinner together, Cassandra asked them, “Why didn’t you ever go to a nursing home? Surely, they can take better care of you compared to me.”
Clara, another sister said they did not trust nursing homes. “We wanted to spend the remainder of our lives together. If we were put in a nursing home, we wouldn’t be able to sleep in the same room, and we’ll have to deal with so many other people,” she explained.
“We would rather spend the rest of our days surrounded by genuine love and care. We never know what other people’s intentions are,” Mindy, the youngest of the sisters, added.
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Cassandra nodded, understanding where the sisters were coming from. “Well,” she told them. “You don’t have to worry. As long as I am able, you can count on me for help,” she smiled. “That’s what neighbors are for!”
“You are the best neighbor anyone could ask for,” Lisa, the second-eldest sibling, told her, reaching out to touch her hand.
No matter how tired Cassandra was every time she got home from the hospital, she made sure to visit the siblings. They ate a meal together, and she would take care of everything they needed before returning home to sleep.
Unfortunately, as time passed, the inevitable began to happen. One by one, the siblings passed away, leaving Cassandra to organize their funerals and mourning their loss.
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When the last of the sisters died, she cleaned their home and attended the final funeral, where there were no visitors aside from a lawyer who introduced herself as Attorney Abigail Smith.
“You must be Cassandra,” Abigail told her. “Thank you for taking care of the sisters all these years. I’ve heard so much about you.”
Cassandra gave her a tearful smile. “They were a delight to be with. I will miss all of them dearly.”
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The lawyer revealed that Cassandra needed to visit her office that same week because there was something she had to discuss with her. Although Cassandra was confused, she promised to visit the lawyer’s office the following day.
When she got there, the lawyer handed her a document. “Lisa, Clara, Mindy, and Marie each had children. I know you’ve never met them because they didn’t bother attending any of the funerals, but they live in nearby states. When the sisters realized their kids didn’t care much about them, they decided to change their will,” she explained.
“They left everything to you,” Attorney Abigail revealed. “In the document, you will see everything you will inherit from them, including money, jewelry, and the house they lived in.”
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Cassandra’s jaw dropped. She couldn’t believe that her neighbors had left their entire estate with her despite having children. “It can’t be! I don’t deserve all of these,” she said, shocked.
Attorney Abigail shrugged. “You do, Cassandra. You were a daughter to them more than their own children. They saw you as the rightful heir to their fortune,” she assured her.
Cassandra didn’t know what to think. She was shaking when she saw the document that clearly stated she was to receive the fortune the four sisters left behind. She didn’t know what to do with the money but immediately realized that it was more than enough to pay off the remaining debts of her late parents.
A couple of days after the meeting, the four sisters’ children started calling Attorney Abigail for the will reading. When she revealed that the will did not involve them, they all wanted to contest the will in court.
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However, before they could do that, Attorney Abigail said that each child would receive a letter in the mail from their mothers. Each letter contained the same message:
“My dear child,
You might be wondering why I left you with nothing. You know that I love you dearly and that I am happy that you were able to start a new life without me in a different state. I am proud of all your success, but I always wished you would take time off your busy schedule to visit me and spend the last of my days with me.
I was deeply hurt and offended by the fact that you never paid attention to me after you moved. I had wished you’d come each holiday, but you never did. So I decided to leave my fortune to someone who was there for me all the years you weren’t.
I hope you accept and understand this decision. I know you are capable of living life without my estate, the same way you have been living without me all these years. Love, mom.”
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The children received the letters on the same day. They messaged one another through a group chat and decided to withdraw the lawsuit. They realized how terrible they had been to their moms and how they did not deserve to receive anything from them.
Cassandra never met any of the sisters’ children, but on each of the women’s death anniversaries, she’d see beautiful fresh flowers on their graves. This made Cassandra smile, knowing that the sisters’ children finally decided to pay attention to their mothers in the only way they could.
What can we learn from this story?
- When you’re in the position to help someone, do it. Cassandra helped her elderly neighbors without expecting anything in return. In the end, her neighbors believed she was the rightful heir of their estate after realizing she cared for them more than their own children did.
- Spend time with your loved ones before it’s too late. When the sisters died, their children realized how much time they wasted neglecting their mothers. They regretted not spending time with them when they were alive and were left leaving bouquets on their graves every year because it was too late to rewrite the past.
Share this story with your friends. It might brighten their day and inspire them.
I OPENED THE DOOR ON HALLOWEEN — I SAW A LITTLE GIRL IN THE DRESS MY MISSING HUSBAND HAD SEWN FOR OUR DAUGHTER.
The crisp autumn air held the familiar scent of woodsmoke and decaying leaves, a bittersweet reminder of Halloweens past. This year, the porch light flickered erratically, casting long, dancing shadows that mirrored the unease gnawing at my heart. Carl, my husband, had vanished six months ago, leaving behind a void that no amount of pumpkin-spice lattes or spooky decorations could fill.
Halloween had always been our holiday. Carl, with his nimble fingers and love for theatrics, would craft elaborate costumes for our daughter, Emily. This year, I’d tried my best, piecing together a fairy princess outfit from store-bought materials. Emily, bless her heart, had pretended to be thrilled, but the absence of Carl’s handcrafted magic was palpable.
I sent Emily off with her friends, a pang of guilt mixed with a desperate need for her to experience some semblance of normalcy. Then, I settled in for the night, a bowl of candy beside me, the silence of the house amplified by the approaching darkness.
The first ring of the doorbell was a jolt, a sudden intrusion into my solitude. “Trick or treat!” a chorus of small voices echoed. I opened the door, a forced smile plastered on my face.
And then, I froze.
Standing before me was a little girl, no older than Emily, dressed in a familiar outfit. A vibrant red coat, with a bouncy, midnight-blue cape, fastened with a silver clasp shaped like a crescent moon. It was the exact design Carl had created for Emily’s fifth Halloween. The same fabric, the same intricate stitching, the same whimsical details. My breath hitched.
“That’s a beautiful costume you have, sweetheart,” I managed, my voice trembling. “Where did you get it?”
The little girl beamed, her eyes sparkling with innocent pride. “My dad made it!”
The world tilted. It couldn’t be. It was impossible. Yet, the costume was undeniably Carl’s handiwork. A cold dread seeped into my bones, mingling with a flicker of desperate hope.
“Sweetheart, where’s your house?” I asked, kneeling down, trying to steady my voice. “I’d love to ask your dad how he made such a lovely costume.”
The girl pointed down the street, towards a row of dimly lit houses. “It’s the yellow one with the big oak tree.”
“Thank you, darling,” I said, handing her a handful of candy. “Have a happy Halloween.”
I closed the door, my heart pounding against my ribs. I couldn’t just let this go. I grabbed my keys, a trembling hand dialing Emily’s friend’s mother. “Can you keep Emily a little longer?” I asked, my voice strained. “I have to… run an errand.”
I drove down the street, the yellow house with the big oak tree looming in the darkness. The porch light was on, casting a warm glow on the Halloween decorations. I parked down the block, my hands clammy.
Taking a deep breath, I walked up the driveway. The doorbell chimed, a cheerful melody that felt grotesquely out of place.
The door opened, revealing a woman with tired eyes and a kind smile. “Trick or treaters already?” she asked, her voice warm.
“I’m sorry, I’m not here for candy,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “My name is Sarah. I saw your daughter’s costume. It… it looks like one my husband used to make.”
The woman’s smile faltered. “Oh, that? My husband made it. He’s very talented.”
“Could I… could I see him?” I asked, my voice cracking.
The woman hesitated, then stepped aside. “Of course. He’s in the garage.”
I followed her through the house, my footsteps echoing on the polished floor. The garage door was slightly ajar, a sliver of light spilling out. I pushed it open.
And there he was.
Carl.
He was sitting at a workbench, surrounded by rolls of fabric and spools of thread. He looked different, thinner, his eyes shadowed. But it was him.
“Carl?” I whispered, my voice thick with tears.
He looked up, his eyes widening in shock. “Sarah?”
The woman, standing behind me, gasped. “You know her?”
“She’s… she’s my wife,” Carl said, his voice hoarse.
The woman’s face crumpled. “But… you told me…”
“I know,” Carl said, his voice filled with regret. “I’m so sorry.”
The story that unfolded was a tangled web of amnesia, guilt, and a desperate attempt to start over. Carl had been in a car accident six months ago, suffering a head injury that wiped his memory clean. He had wandered, lost and confused, until he found himself in this town, where the woman, a widow, had taken him in. They had fallen in love, built a life together, a life built on a lie.
He had no recollection of me, of Emily, of our life together. The costume, he explained, was a subconscious echo of his past, a skill he had retained without knowing why.
The woman, her heart broken, understood. She knew she couldn’t keep him. She knew he belonged with me, with Emily.
The reunion was bittersweet. Carl, a stranger in his own life, struggled to reconcile the man he was with the man he had become. Emily, though overjoyed to have her father back, was confused by his distant demeanor.
It was a long, arduous process, filled with tears, frustration, and tentative steps forward. We rebuilt our life, piece by piece, like Carl’s costumes, stitching together fragments of the past with the threads of the present.
Halloween, once a symbol of our lost happiness, became a symbol of our resilience. We learned that even in the darkest of times, hope can flicker like a porch light, guiding us home.
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