Six months ago, tragedy struck our family: my father passed away. The loss still weighs heavily on my heart, and even though time has softened the sharpest edges, I miss him every day. Life, it seems, never gives us a chance to catch our breath. My fathers brother, Uncle Peter, made a surprise visit to our home just days ago. He rarely visits, and truthfully, he and Dad were never closeno arguments, really, just a chilly distance between them. They each kept to their own world.
How was your journey? I asked, feeling awkward. And why are you addressing me so formally? Im your favourite uncle, arent I? Uncle Peter replied with a saccharine smile, pretending at warmth hes never shown.
He hadnt let us know he was coming. After Dads funeral, we hadnt heard a word from him, not even a phone call. Then, out of the blue, he turns up on our doorstep.
We sat together for tea, Mum pouring from the pot, her hands trembling just a little. Uncle Peter wasted no time. How shall we split the inheritance? The three of us? Is there anyone else involved? he asked, clear as day.
What inheritance? Mum said, momentarily stunned.
Truth be told, there was an inheritance: our lovely London flat, a sprawling house in the countryside, and two cars. Mum had tried to persuade me that we should sell the country house and use the money to buy me a flat near my university. But so far, wed chosen not to rush anything.
What inheritance? The property my brother left behind! Uncle Peter insisted. If not for you and Emily, then Id have it all. Now I get nothing! But Im his brother, surely I deserve my share! No, you dont, Mum replied firmly. The law is quite clear! What about conscience, though?
Uncle Peter is cunninghe knows full well the law isnt on his side, so he appeals to some vague sense of moral obligation. But we saw right through it. Dad and Uncle Peter were never friends, and Uncle Peter had no connection to Dads affairs or possessions.
When Dad fell ill, he told Mum and me, explicitly, that everything should remain with us. He was quite adamant: no one else.
In good conscience, Peter, nothing for you. And you know that. You were never close to your brother. Mum spoke without hesitation. Uncle Peter grumbled, Its like a bad soap opera. The wife gets everything, while the rest of the family is left outparents, siblings, nephews, nothing at all!
He was laying it on thick, determined to make us feel guilty and to push us into dividing Dads property among the three of us. Enough! Mum said finally. We arent having this conversation anymore.
Once Uncle Peter departed, Mum and I locked up the country house and headed back to our city flat. We know him; hes not one to back down without a fight. We suspected hed try to take us to court, for the sake of that inheritance: a third of a luxury country house, a third of a prime London flat, and a third of two cars. Its a tidy sum in pounds sterling.
Uncle Peters greed matched his persistence. He did, in fact, file a claim against us. He seems convinced hell win. Still, in my heart, I know the law favours us and not him. What could he possibly be hoping for? In moments like these, I remind myself to be grateful for what Dad left us, and to stay strong for Mumno matter what storms the family brings.
