UNPREDICTABLE ENCOUNTER: THE NEIGHBOR’S CONTINUING REQUEST FOR MY GRANDMA’S WILL RESUL
When I told the elderly woman next door that I didn’t want to see my grandma’s will, she wouldn’t go from my porch.
Even though my grandmother’s passing was tragic, nothing could have prepared me for the turmoil caused by Mrs. Jenkins, her demanding neighbor. After I denied her bizarre request to see my grandmother’s will, she staged an ongoing standoff at my doorstep, so I had to confront her ridiculous request head-on.
My grandma passed just recently. In addition to dealing with the chaos that my grandma’s next-door neighbor, Mrs. Jenkins, had caused, I was heartbroken to lose her. Before I go into that part of the story, let me explain what happened.
It all started when my grandmother was diagnosed with cancer. She turned down medical attention. Having witnessed my grandfather undergo chemotherapy, she was reluctant to do it herself.
We finally decided to give in to her request, even though it was difficult for us to do so. If she didn’t want to receive treatment, then she wouldn’t.
She started giving up her possessions during the course of the next year. One day she invited her three children and their families to her house, and she told them all to make a list of the things they wanted.
She said, “This is an open invitation for all of you.” “You can choose anything you want and take it with you when you leave my residence. Just provide me with a list of the goods you find appealing.
It seemed like a great chance to grab everything we wanted from her house, but we were unable to seize it. A few guidelines were followed. Certain relatives possessed certain family heirlooms. We all knew who was supposed to receive the items.
That was the last time any of us saw her engage with anyone, let alone smile.
A few weeks later, she passed away peacefully in her sleep. We were all sorry when she left, but at least she was back with Grandpa, right?
After her death, everything relating to her will was resolved rather easily. My grandmother was a resourceful individual who could handle everything on her own.
According to her will, my dad would get her home, and his brothers would get cash, jewelry, and other assets.
Dad was very thrilled to move back to the house he had known his entire boyhood in.
He would remark, “Every room makes me think of the fun times we had there.” “I’ll redecorate the house to restore its original appearance from forty years ago.”
Sadly, circumstances intervened to keep him from realizing his dreams.
Within two weeks of my grandma’s passing, my father passed away as well.
It passed by so swiftly. One day he was fine as ever, and the next morning he didn’t open his eyes.
When we heard of my dad’s passing, we were all startled. After his funeral, his lawyer called me into his office.
The lawyer said, “Jacqueline, you are Mr. Parker’s only child, so he left everything for you.” “Including the home he inherited two weeks ago from your grandmother.”
I did not anticipate that. For the following thirty minutes, the attorney outlined my next steps.
He volunteered to help me with everything, which suggests that he knew I was not an expert in law.
A month later, I was using sliding boxes to organize Grandma’s house’s wardrobes and kitchen cupboards. My dad and I had finally moved into the same home. I needed a few days to adjust to being surrounded by memories of my grandma and father. At the time, I thought everything was settled, but oh, was I wrong.
The day after I finished unpacking, I heard a loud tap on the door and nearly leaped out of my skin.
“On the way!” I said, wiping my hands on the towel that sat on the kitchen island.
Standing on my porch with her arms crossed was my grandma’s neighbor. My grandmother used to call her “that entitled lady” all the time, and I was going to start calling her that too.
I said, “Hello.”
“Who are you?” she asked me. without greeting anyone.
“You’re Jacqueline, and me?”
I did know who she was. Her name was Mrs. Jenkins, the grandma with the two annoying grandchildren.
I assume you are Maureen’s granddaughter. “Your grandma promised me something,” she continued.
“Oh really?” I asked. To be honest, I was shocked.
“I really wanted to see the will,” she said.
“The goal? It was only family members, Mrs. Jenkins, I told her.
She remarked, “You know, your grandma loved my grandkids like her own.” “I simply wanted to see if they would be willing to receive anything.”
Something almost choked me. Those youngsters used to be Grandma’s constant source of complaint. Even though she would advise them not to refer to her as “Grandma,” they would still come over and use her water to fill their pool without asking permission.
Mrs. Jenkins bravely asked her grandkids if they could explore the house and collect whatever souvenirs they wanted. I thought my ears were incredible.
I said, “Mrs. Jenkins, my granny passed away four weeks ago,” trying not to lose my cool. And my dad died only two weeks ago. It’s not the best time at all.
She exclaimed, “My grandkids had their hearts set on some family heirlooms.” “How much longer before I get our share of the estate? Since they are coming over, I would like them to collect their inheritance before they go.
I was unable to comprehend. Why Grandma left nothing for her grandkids was a mystery to her. How was I supposed to tell her this?
I felt kind of considerate when I offered to let them look through the boxes I had packed for donation. But she sure as hell took offense! You would think I’d insulted her whole family.
“Boxes for donations? Your grandma was like family to us. We had to be mentioned in the will. Give it to me, please! I have to see things with my own eyes.
I told myself to take a deep breath at that very time because I was so frustrated. I knew that this woman and her grandchildren were just our next-door neighbors and that they had never shown my grandmother any special kindness.
When I eventually said “no” to her several times, I shut the door in her face. Still, Mrs. Jenkins was not finished.
She insisted on staying on my porch and said that I was lying about the will. She was certain that her grandma had left her and her grandchildren something.
She spent the next thirty minutes or so peering in the windows. I was going crazy now. Then it clicked with me. If this woman considered herself to be a part of the family, then she should be included in all of their issues, isn’t that right?
I just picked up some scratch paper and a pen and started writing. When I was done, I went back to the door.
“Sweetheart Jenkins,” I muttered. Presumably thinking I had changed my mind, she turned.
I handed her the paper. “Help ‘your’ family here if you really are a part of the family, and then we can talk.”
Her eyes nearly dropped out of her head when she saw what I had written. It was a bill for her share of the burial costs, legal expenses, and her grandmother’s medical expenses. The number was relatively significant because grandma had been sick for a while and funerals are costly.
Mrs. Jenkins appeared astonished. “This is crazy,” she stumbled and said.
I shrugged. “Irrational? My grandmother, Mrs. Jenkins, died of cancer. You would know how expensive the burial and hospital expenses were. After all, you were rather close to her.
She had a toddler’s tantrum and kicked her foot. “This is completely absurd! You would embarrass your grandmother!”
That was the last straw. Her arrogance and indifference to the pain in my family had been too much for me.
“Mrs. Jenkins,” I said in a quiet but assertive tone. “You would bring shame to my grandmother.” She never considered you family, even though she politely put up with your nonsense for years. For the last time, I am going to ask you to leave my country. If you don’t, I’ll report you to the police for harassment.
Her face flashed a rainbow of colors, ranging from ghostly white to purple. Without further word, she pivoted on her heel and strode off my porch.
As I watched her withdraw, I felt a variety of feelings. I was devastated by the deaths of my grandmother and father, enraged at her stupidity, and in a strange way proud. I had spoken up for my lineage and our past.
I scanned the room, taking in all the familiar objects that held a plethora of stories. Each one of them served as a reminder of my family’s history and was meant to be cherished and passed down through the ages. These weren’t gifts to give to overindulged neighbors.
As I closed the door, a smile appeared on my face. Grandma was undoubtedly somewhere, appreciating how I handled “that entitled lady.” And at that moment, I felt more connected to her than ever, surrounded by the consoling memories of family.
