After Grandma died, Grandpa lived alone, and I drove two hours every Sunday to visit him, even while my cousins joked that I was wasting my weekends. After Grandpa passed away, one cousin found his diary, and I discovered that he had recorded every Sunday I came to see him—sometimes for coffee, sometimes to fix things, and sometimes simply to sit with him.
Beside every entry, he had written the same two words: “Worth it.” On the final page, Grandpa revealed that Sundays were the only days he didn’t feel completely alone, and he had left his house to me—not because I visited the most, but because I kept showing up when there was nothing to gain. READ MORE BELOW
