I hadn’t expected anything from her estate, so nothing surprised me. The day after her passing, her son called, overwhelmed and angry. While sorting through her belongings, he found a letter. “It wasn’t addressed to him. It was addressed to me.”

In the letter, she thanked me for my patience and kindness during her most fragile moments. She explained that changing her will would have caused conflict, but she still wanted me to know how much my presence meant. “She wrote that I had been her comfort, her steady presence, her sense of peace at the end.”

What truly upset her son wasn’t the letter itself. In the same box, he found receipts, notes, and photos showing she once planned to set up a small trust for him. She never finished it. Instead, she spent her final months trying to repair their relationship, something he only understood after reading her regrets.

I listened as he released his confusion and pain. I told him the truth: the letter was never meant to hurt him. “There was no hidden agenda, nothing to argue over, nothing to blame.” It was simply her quiet way of saying thank you and sharing what she couldn’t say aloud.

More than anything, she wanted him to understand how quickly time passes and how important it is to show up for those we love. “Her words were her final attempt to reach him.”