The last month of my life, I secretly asked my doctor whether I had enough strength to remove you from my will.
He said I did.
I never told you because I wanted to see what happened.
For three weeks…
You believed you might receive nothing.
Yet every morning you still helped me shave.
Every afternoon you still sat beside my bed reading novels I pretended to enjoy.
Every evening you still kissed my forehead before falling asleep in the chair beside me.
That was when I finally knew.
You were no longer staying because of money.
You were staying because you loved an old fool who snored too loudly.
A tear landed on the page.
I laughed through it.
“You did snore,” I whispered.
The lawyer smiled faintly.
Vanessa looked away.
Then I reached the final page.
By now, my children are probably expecting lawyers, documents, and dramatic announcements.
