A Grandmother's Hopes

As the funeral car pulled away, Jack couldn’t help but think of his inheritance.

“Wonder how much the old woman has left me” he muttered to himself. The thing you need to know about Jack is that he was a selfish soul with very little regard for those around him, especially his Grandmother who was now being whisked away in a box to be put in the ground. He had no time for her you see. He would always be too busy to take her shopping or sit with her to have a cup of tea. And now, it was too late for any of this but he didn’t seem to mind. He went about his day with the thought of how much inheritance at the forefront of his mind.

Sylvia adored Jack, in her mind he could do no wrong. She had become quite unwell over the last few months, nothing sinister, just old age. Before she passed, she ensured Jack would be left with enough to be able to settle down in his own home. She hoped this would help him to become a better man if he had the responsibility of a home to run. He was her eldest grandson who she saw the least but she had always had a large space in her heart for him. Knowing she had left her grandson enough to start his way in life made her last moments peaceful.

“£20,000” Jack stood in disbelief. “Is that all she’s left me?!” he didn’t even try to hide the bitterness and disappointment he felt bubbling inside him. He left his family and solicitor in astonishment with a loud bang of the door. They all looked incredibly embarrassed but nobody said another word about it.

Maisy was a devoted wife and mother of two beautiful children. She looked in the mirror at her pale and sunken face while she wrapped her scarf around what was left of her once beautiful hair. Although she was dying, she was never horrible to herself, even on the days she felt she looked her worst. She would always pick something out on her face or body that she could speak positively of. Her husband looked at her the way he always had, with admiration and complete love. She smiled back at him, he knew what was coming and yet he had stayed. They had discussed what would happen following her funeral, he and their girls would move back North to be with his family, he would need their support.

A few weeks had passed since Maisy had passed away. The house had been sold and her husband gave one last look at the house they had raised their children in and began to cry, not quite with sadness but with worry as to what their future would hold without her. With that, they were on the road to see his parents.

***

“It’s quite small but it will do”

Jack, surprisingly, had used his inheritance wisely and by his Grandmother’s wishes. He had just put down his £20,000 on a house on the outskirts of the town. He looked around at the fully furnished house. It had been a steal really, the previous owners had left everything at no extra cost. He had a sofa, a bed, a washing machine and a few other essentials that made it so much easier to get settled in quickly. Not that he saw this as a good thing, more of an inconvenience really.

“So, I’m going to have to move all this junk myself am I? Bit lazy of them really wasn’t it

“Shall we get started then?” He said to a now empty room, nobody stuck around to help him. Karma really. He wasn’t the helpful sort either.

While emptying a bedroom cabinet, Jack came across a little black book. It was nothing special to look at so he put it to one side while he cleared out the rest. The previous owner must have missed emptying this cabinet, perhaps they had been in a rush. He was fond of the cabinet itself so he decided it was one of the things he would be keeping. While he picked up the contents of the cabinet he dropped the little black book onto the floor. After a rather dramatic eyeroll he put everything down to pick it back up. A few polaroid pictures had fallen out of the book. He examined the photographs and found a happy family looking back at him. A small woman, with beautiful long blonde hair; a taller man beside her with a thick black beard and a friendly smile and in front were 2 small girls with hair like the woman and 2 big grins. It looked like they had had a good day. Another picture had the same woman and man taking a selfie together. The woman, still beautiful, did not look as bright as the first picture. The closer Jack looked the more he noticed that they were in a hospital bed, he could see the machines behind her head. “Weird place to take a selfie” he thought. As he flicked through the book he realised he was reading a journal or diary of some description. The handwriting looked girly, so it must be the woman in the photo. Each page was signed with “M xox”.

Jack didn’t know how long he had been sat on the floor looking through the writings of “M”. It was only when pins and needles set into his behind that he looked up and realised it had gone dark. He couldn’t sleep that night, he put it down to it being a new house but really the thought of “M” filled his mind and he just could not shake it. The entire book had been filled with her life. Memories in pictures and poems that she had written. By the end of the little black book it had become clear to Jack that “M” was dying when she wrote those words. He felt like he knew her, like she was a friend. He knew that her 2 girls were ahead of everyone in their class, they were polite but had an edge of sass that made everyone laugh. He knew that her husband would do anything for her and their marriage was the definition of perfection. Her words were so gentle and lovely that he thought it would be impossible for anyone not to love her. He found himself wondering if she was still alive. He needed to meet with her and return her little black book so that she could finish her life story. So that he could read more of her beautiful memories. He just had to know her, had to know her little family.

He had the forwarding address in front him. He hoped it was theirs, the family in the book. Could he drive there? No, he would look like a crazy person. Instead, he decided the nice thing to do would be to send the little black book with a letter to the address he had been given.

Dear M,

I am writing to you and your family who I have come to know through your words in this little black book.

I hope that I am not too late in writing and sending this to you but I’m afraid I might be. I recently moved into your house and found this book in one of the cabinets. I’m sorry to say that I have read it but I am glad that I have. I have never met you but your words speak to me in a way that I have never felt before.

I recently lost my Grandmother and to be completely honest with you, I felt nothing at the time, only disappointment that my inheritance wasn’t what I was expecting. I never visited her or helped her when she asked for it, I was always too busy. But after reading your book, I thought of all the memories that you have that I just don’t have and it’s all my fault. I just hope she forgives me, wherever she is.

You have a beautiful family and I hope you are all keeping well. I hope you are still fighting your cancer and get to know what you have done for me without even realising.

Jack.

Jack heard nothing back from his letter. He sadly assumed that “M” had passed away and that receiving her book had been quite painful for her family but he knew deep down that it had been the right thing to do. He had visited his Grandmother’s grave every day since he sent it, trying to make amends for the years of brushing her aside. He felt changed, not completely different, but a better man for it.