“They Call Me Daily to Check on My Health”: But It Feels Hollow, Perhaps It’s All About the Inheritance

Lillian sat quietly in her modest living room, the soft ticking of the wall clock filling the silence that her thoughts could not. It was her 78th birthday, and the room was devoid of any celebration. Her eyes, once bright and hopeful, now often wandered to the phone on the small wooden table beside her, willing it to ring.

Her children, Nathan, Bryan, and Ella, had grown into adults she barely recognized. Nathan, the eldest, was a busy lawyer in New York; Bryan had moved to California and invested himself in the tech world; and Ella, her only daughter, was a marketing consultant in Chicago. Their lives were full, their visits sparse.

Lillian’s husband had left many years ago, leaving her to raise their three children alone. She had poured her heart and soul into ensuring they had everything they needed, often at the expense of her own needs and dreams. Now, as she sat alone on her birthday, she couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret mingling with her loneliness.

The phone finally rang, jolting Lillian from her reverie. It was Nathan.

“Happy Birthday, Mom! How are you feeling today?” His voice was cheerful, but to Lillian, it sounded rehearsed.

“I’m doing well, dear. Thank you for calling,” Lillian replied, masking the disappointment in her voice with practiced ease.

“That’s great to hear, Mom. Listen, I’ve been really busy with a big case, but I wanted to check in. Oh, and Bryan and Ella say hi. We were all talking about how we need to manage things when… well, you know, when the time comes.”

Lillian felt a coldness settle in her chest. “The time comes for what, Nathan?”

“You know, when we need to handle your estate and other affairs,” Nathan said, a hint of impatience threading his tone.

Lillian’s heart sank. So, this was what her birthday call was about. Not out of genuine concern, but a reminder of her mortality and what it meant for them.

“I see. Is that all you called for on my birthday, Nathan?” Her voice was soft, hurt evident despite her efforts.

There was a pause on the other end. “No, of course not, Mom. I just thought it was important to mention. Anyway, I have to go. We’ll talk soon, okay? Love you.”

“Love you too,” Lillian whispered into the phone, but Nathan had already hung up.

The rest of her birthday passed in silence. Bryan and Ella sent text messages with birthday wishes, but the expected emptiness gnawed at Lillian. She realized that her children saw her not as a mother to be cherished but as a future task to be managed, a reminder of responsibilities they’d rather not face.

As night fell, Lillian turned off the lights and headed to bed. The day had confirmed her fears; the love and care she had hoped her children harbored for her seemed overshadowed by their concern for her estate. In the quiet of her room, Lillian allowed herself to cry, mourning not just the end of another year but the loss of the family she thought she knew.