After losing my wife, my family stopped visiting me altogether, but the neighborhood children became my comfort with their frequent visits. Once I got tired of being neglected by my own family, I decided to make them see the error of their ways.

Seventy-eight years on this earth, and I’ve learned a few things about people. I know how they’ll hug you close when you’re useful, then forget you when you’re not. But I suppose, after years of sitting alone in this old house, you either grow bitter about it or figure out a way to laugh. I decided to laugh and maybe teach a little lesson while I was at it.

I’d been mostly alone since Ellie, my dear wife, passed away 17 years ago. I can still remember the quiet in the house after the funeral, a silence that filled every corner, pressing on my ears like cotton.

I thought, surely, family would fill some of that emptiness. After all, we’d raised three kids together, watched our six grandkids grow up, and even welcomed two great-grandkids. Surely, I thought, they’d be around. But a man can only hope…

But hope and reality don’t always shake hands. Months turned to years, and besides the occasional holiday card or awkward phone call, my family all but disappeared. I’d watch out the window, see the neighbors out with their kids, and hear the laughter that belonged to everyone else but me.

And then, like a gift from somewhere up high, the neighborhood kids started coming around! Ben, Sasha, Emma, and a handful of other kids would peek through my gate, and eventually, they’d trickle in, one by one!

At first, it was just a curious visit, then another, and before I knew it, they were spending whole afternoons with me! They’d bring cookies they’d baked (or tried to bake), ask for stories about when I was their age, and share secrets they’d never dare tell their parents!

They were noisy, messy, and my joy! On my last birthday, I had ten kids and their parents crammed around my little table, the former singing off-key and eating too much cake! It was the best birthday I’d had in years!

One chilly afternoon, Ben looked up at me with his big brown eyes and asked, “Mr. Stewart, where’s your family? Do they come to visit you?”

I smiled, patted his little shoulder, and said, “They’re busy kiddo. Everyone’s busy these days.”

“That’s sad that they can’t make time to come hang out with a kind old man like yourself who always has a big smile on his face.”

That night, alone with my thoughts, the truth felt heavier than usual.

I’d been a good father and a decent enough grandfather, but time had made me just another name on a holiday card, a number in the family tree. And that’s when the idea struck me.

If they wouldn’t come for birthdays or holidays, well, maybe they’d come if they thought they’d missed their last chance!

I decided to teach them a little life lesson that they’d never forget. I was done being nice!

A few days later, with the help of the kids who were delighted by the mischief, I put together invitations for my children and grandchildren. Of course, I got the children’s parents’ permission first for this project.

“You are invited to the memorial of Stewart Ellison,” the invitations read, with the date, time, and local venue set for the following Saturday.

I made sure to add a little hook at the end: “Someone in attendance will be announcing the division of inheritance.”

I knew my family wouldn’t ignore that!

The morning of the “funeral,” I dressed in my best suit, straightened my tie, and headed over to the cemetery with the kids, who were practically bouncing with excitement.

“You really think they’ll show up, Mr. Stewart?” Emma asked, clutching a handful of wildflowers she’d picked.

“Oh, I reckon they will, Emma,” I chuckled, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves myself. “Nothing like the word ‘inheritance’ to bring people together.”

We set up in a little clearing by the local cemetery’s edge, where I’d arranged a few folding chairs and a small table. I sat a bit far from there shielded by large trees, surrounded by my little band of loyal friends, and hid as we waited.

Soon enough, I saw cars pulling in, my sons and daughter, their families, and even a few cousins and distant relatives I hadn’t seen in years! They looked around, unsure and uncomfortable, and it struck me just how foreign this place must seem to them.

Then I saw my eldest grandson, Jack, and his siblings, Anna and Diane, coming down the path. The sight of them brought back memories of summers at the lake, Christmas mornings, and the way they’d pile into the house, filling it with noise and love. But those were memories from another life…

As they got closer, my family looked at each other, confusion on their faces. Finally, when everyone was there, the neighborhood children and I rounded the corner, and my family finally saw me… very much alive, very much smiling.

The expressions on their faces were priceless! Some stared, mouths open, while others glanced around as if hoping this was some mistake.

Diane was the first to speak. “Dad? What… what is this?”

I sat and leaned back in my chair, hands folded, trying not to laugh. “Surprised to see me?”

“Yeah!” Jack exclaimed, letting out a stunned laugh. “You’re supposed to be… I mean, we thought you were…”

“Dead?” I finished for him, smiling warmly as I started my speech. “Well, not quite. But I wanted to see how quickly you’d all show up if you thought you’d missed your chance.”

They all looked at each other, uneasy, and the weight of their silence hung in the air. I decided to break it before they grew too uncomfortable.

“Look, I know life gets busy. Jobs, families, hobbies… it’s a lot. I understand that. But it’s been seventeen years, kids. Seventeen years with hardly a visit, hardly a word.”

My voice softened. “I’ve been alone for a long time. And if it weren’t for these kids here,” I gestured to Ben, Emma, and the others, “I’d have spent my last years in an empty house, waiting for you to show up!”

I could see the guilt settling in on their faces, and I felt a little sorry for them, but not enough to back down. This was a lesson they needed to learn. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my trusty old calculator.

“Now,” I said, holding it up, “since you all came for the inheritance announcement, let’s get to it. I’ll be dividing what I have based on how much time each of you spent with me in my last few years.”

The calculator clicked on, and I tapped a few buttons for effect, relishing the tension.

They stared, wide-eyed, as I started calling out amounts. Cousin Amy, who’d never visited once in the last five years, got nothing! My daughter and sons each got nothing too, causing everyone to gasp in shock!

Then I turned to the kids. Ben, Sasha, Emma, and the rest watched me, innocent and clueless about the whole thing. “Ben,” I said, grinning at him, “for all those afternoons you spent listening to this old man’s stories, you’re getting $90,000.”

His mouth dropped open, and the rest of the kids gasped, unable to believe their ears.

“Are you serious, Mr. Stewart? That sounds like a lot of money,” he whispered, eyes wide.

“Dead serious,” I replied, feeling a swell of pride. “Every one of you kids gets a portion of what’s left, from $30,000 to $90,000. You earned it!”

My family looked around, astonished, as they watched these neighborhood kids light up with joy and disbelief. Diane let out a small, sad laugh.

“I can’t believe it,” she said, more to herself than to me.

I turned to Anna, my youngest granddaughter, and pulled out a small, framed photo of her sitting on my lap when she was little, laughing like she didn’t have a care in the world.

“And you, sweetheart,” I said gently, handing her the frame, “you get this. It’s worth more than money. This is the best gift you ever gave me.”

Now grown, she took the photo, tears brimming in her eyes as she ran her fingers over the glass. The rest of the family watched, a little teary themselves, realizing what I was trying to say.

Finally, I took a long look at all of them.

“Let this be a lesson, kids. Family isn’t just about the blood you share. It’s about the moments you make together, the love you give, the time you spend. Don’t wait until it’s too late.”

Jack stepped forward, putting a hand on my shoulder.

“We’re sorry, Grandpa. We really are. We’ve been… well, we’ve been lousy.”

I nodded, patting his hand.

“I know you are, son. And I forgive you. Life’s too short to hold grudges.” I glanced over at the neighborhood kids, who were still buzzing with excitement. “And you lot, you’ve made this old man’s last years the happiest they could be! Thank you!”

With that, we all gathered around, and for the first time in years, I felt like I had my family back, both old and new! And as I looked around at their faces, I knew this lesson would stick.

Stewart was able to teach his family a valuable lesson and in the following story, a woman did the same thing to her mean neighbors. After they threw their Halloween junk on her lawn, she took revenge against them, leading the Home Owner’s Association to get involved.

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.