If you’re reading this, it means I didn’t make it to your first day on campus, and that breaks my heart. I’m so sorry.
I know I said no a lot. I hated saying it. But I wanted you to have the life you dreamed of—the one you told me about when you were ten.
This house is yours, the bills are covered for a while, and the trust will pay for college, books, and even that new phone you always wanted.
I’m so proud of you, kiddo. I’m still with you. Always.
All my love, Grandpa.
I cried right there in the office.
When I finally asked how much was in the trust, Ms. Carter said, “Enough for four years of tuition, housing, food, and a generous allowance at any state university.”
A week later, I applied to the best social work program in the state. I was accepted two days after.
That night, I stepped out onto the porch, looked up at the sky, and whispered, “I’m going, Grandpa. I’m going to save them all, just like you saved me.”
The lie of scarcity had been his greatest act of love. And I was going to build a life worthy of it.
