A neighbor saw her wandering the road and called 911, leading her grandson, Alan, to come and take her.
She wrote, “I didn’t want to go. But I couldn’t find the words to fight. And I didn’t know your last name or how to contact you. Everything moved too fast.”
She said she had tried to return to the house, but her family wouldn’t allow it. She asked them to send letters, but no one ever did.
“I didn’t want to go.”
“They said I was just confused and had imagined you. But you were real. And I never stopped holding on to that.”
My chest felt crushed. I had spent years thinking I’d been abandoned! But she had remembered everything. She’d fought for me. And nobody listened!
“She wanted you to have her home,” Dennis said gently.
My eyes snapped to his. “Her home? Me?”
And nobody listened!
He nodded. “Before she entered assisted living, in her will, she made it very clear that her home was meant for you.”
I blinked at him, stunned. “But why? I mean, why go through all this trouble? Why leave it to me?”
Dennis opened a file folder and slid over a few more items.
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