He filled the refrigerator with foods his mother enjoyed. Simple soups. Soft fruits. Warm breads with butter. He joined her for breakfast on purpose, letting the routine become a gentle anchor. They took short walks in the late morning sun. They listened to music she loved. Her color returned, then her humor, then her appetite for life beyond the kitchen window.
Trust returned too, step by careful step. She started visiting again, not to reassure him with a brave face, but to sit comfortably on the couch with a blanket and talk about everything and nothing. He listened with the attention of a son who had almost lost the quiet presence that had grounded him since childhood.
What He Learned About Wealth and Wills
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