My grandkids had already reserved a cemetery plot and headstone for me or so I overheard. At 74, I’m very much alive and well, but it seemed my family had already accepted I was near the end. I’m Martha, a mother of three who worked hard all her life to support my family. After my husband passed, visits from my children and grandkids grew scarce. Eventually, they moved me into a nursing home and barely came around.

One day, I overheard my children joking about the headstone they’d chosen and how they’d even paid for my grave plot with some of my inheritance. That moment hurt deeply I realized they saw me as a future expense, not the loving mother and grandmother I’d been.

After a health scare that should have ended it all, I surprised everyone by recovering quickly and calling a family meeting. I announced a new will: each child and grandchild would receive just one dollar, while the rest of my savings would go to charity.

I’m now spending my days living fully traveling, reconnecting with old friends, and reminding my family that I’m still here, strong and proud. I’m more than just “kind” I’m still fighting, still loving, and still very much alive.