I always knew my mom’s things would become a problem — not for their value, but because they were pieces of her. She died when I was 12. I’m 26 now, and her jewelry, wedding ring, and watch are all I have left of her.
When I was 15, my dad gave me all her belongings — not out of sentiment, but because his then-girlfriend tried to steal them. I caught her snooping, and when I confronted her, she tried to slap me. Dad dumped her, but it wasn’t the first time someone tried to take Mom’s things. My aunt once stuffed Mom’s pearl pendant in her purse. After that, I moved everything to my grandparents’ for safekeeping.
At 17, Dad met Rhoda. I moved out at 18. They now have five kids, two daughters. Just before their wedding, Dad sat me down and asked me to “share” Mom’s things: her Claddagh ring for Rhoda, her necklace for Lynn, her bracelet for Sophia — even her wedding ring, which had belonged to my grandmother. He said it would make Rhoda feel like “his one and only.”
Then he asked me to gift Mom’s watch to Rhoda to help us “bond.” I just said one word: No.
He pushed. I told him, “Buy them their own jewelry. Mom wasn’t their family.” The next day, Rhoda called, playing the victim. “What kind of daughter are you being?” she asked. I replied, “You’re 38. I’m 26. Let that sink in.”
She claimed the girls needed something of Mom’s to feel connected. I told her: “Too bad. It’s mine. You’re getting none of it.”
Later, my dad sent a guilt trip text. I ignored it.
At the wedding, I handed Rhoda a gift. Her face lit up — until she opened the box and found old cleaning rags my mom used. “You wanted something she used and loved,” I said. “Here you go.”
Then I walked out smiling. Mom would’ve been proud.
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