Growing up, I never fully understood why my Aunt Sharon always treated me like I didn’t matter. But after my grandmother passed away and left me an inheritance, my aunt’s attitude only worsened. I’d thought about splitting the inheritance with her—until her actions made it clear why she hadn’t been left much in the first place.
I never imagined something as simple as a birthday cake could uncover someone’s true nature. But it was through moments like that one that I began to see Aunt Sharon for who she really was—and how our already fragile relationship completely fell apart after Grandma’s death.
When I was five, I lost both my parents in a car crash. My grandmother, Mabel, stepped in and raised me with more love and care than I could’ve ever hoped for. She filled our home with warmth, the scent of lavender, and the comforting aroma of fresh bread. To me, she was home. But her daughter, my Aunt Sharon, was the opposite of nurturing.
As a child, I tried so hard to win her affection. I even made her a beaded bracelet at camp with her favorite color—red—woven into the pattern. She took one look at it, scoffed, and said, “I don’t wear junk,” tossing it aside. At the time, I thought she was just in a bad mood. But it kept happening. She skipped my school events, ignored my birthdays, and made me feel more like a burden than family.
Still, I held onto hope. She was my only other relative besides Grandma. I wanted a bond—some sense of closeness.
But when Grandma’s health began to decline, Sharon all but disappeared. I was the one taking care of everything—changing sheets, taking Grandma to appointments, reading to her through sleepless nights. Meanwhile, Sharon lived in the same house but barely emerged from her room. The flicker of her TV under the door was the only sign she was even home.
She always had an excuse. “I’m too stressed,” she’d say. “Caregiving isn’t my thing.” The most I saw of her was when she came out to grab snacks or argue about the thermostat. When she wasn’t complaining, she was glued to her phone, either gossiping or scrolling endlessly.
She barely acknowledged Grandma’s suffering—and that told me everything I needed to know.
Leave a Reply