I always knew my mom’s things would cause problems—not because they were valuable, but because they were pieces of her. She died when I was 12. I’m 26 now, and the only tangible part of her I’ve held onto has been her jewelry, her ring, her little watch. I never thought I’d have to defend them from my own dad.
When I was 15, he gave me everything after his girlfriend tried to take some. I even caught my aunt trying to steal Mom’s favorite pearl pendant. After that, I moved her belongings to my grandparents’ house for safekeeping.
But nothing prepared me for what came years later. My dad remarried, had kids, and just before his wedding, asked me to give Mom’s jewelry to his wife and daughters—including her Claddagh ring, her wedding necklace, and even her wedding ring.
I refused instantly. He said it would make us “one family.” I told him, “Buy them their own jewelry. Mom wanted her things to be mine.”
His fiancée later called, questioning what kind of “daughter” I was. I almost laughed. “You’re 38. I’m 26. Don’t call me your daughter.”
