I took my savings—the little I had left—and Harold and I checked into a cozy bed-and-breakfast just outside town. That same week, I contacted a lawyer and rewrote *everything* in my will. Ashley? She was out. Every dime, every bond, even my jewelry—now destined for a local orphanage and a scholarship fund in her parents’ name.
Then, I did something even better.
I called the *local news.*
“A grandmother finds love at 80—and gets kicked out for it.”
They ate it up. Cameras, interviews, even a photo of Harold and me kissing under cherry blossoms. The segment went viral.
Suddenly, Ashley’s office phone wouldn’t stop ringing. Her coworkers looked at her differently. Her boss pulled her aside.
The next day, she showed up at the B&B, red-eyed and trembling.
“Grandma, I’m so sorry,” she choked. “I was… just scared of losing you.”
I looked her dead in the eye and said,
“Sweetheart, love doesn’t subtract—it *adds.* You kicked me out for choosing joy. Now, I’m choosing peace.”
**Moral?**
Never shame someone for loving again—especially the very person who gave up everything to love *you.*
