The Heir and The Expectations
People gathered for Sara’s funeral, some crying, others lost in silent thought. A group of children approached an elderly man named Steve and asked, “Why aren’t you saying anything?” Steve smiled gently and replied, “Do you kids know what real heartbreak is?” The children answered with things like, “Losing chocolate, not getting presents, or missing out on something after trying really hard.” Steve chuckled softly and said, “Let me tell you a story.”
I was born in the late 90s, back when winters still felt cold and breezy to Mark and Samantha. Their lives were filled with joy when I came along, the heir to their legacy. Mark was a well-known man in our town, always concerned with keeping up appearances. He wanted his family to continue his legacy in the same grand way. My mother, Samantha, on the other hand, was a gentle soul, more interested in seeing her family happy, no matter what the circumstances.
When I was born, it was a celebration for the entire family. They lit fireworks, shared sweets, and gave food to those in need. They believed I would carry on their values and traditions. One of the children interrupted, asking, “So you brought a festival to the house?” Another child asked, “Did you meet your parents’ expectations?” Steve smiled wistfully and said, “Well, that’s hard to say. I had a lot of toys, more than my friends, and I was taught to be strong and sensitive. But I always felt like something was missing.”
At age five, I started school, and the early years were great fun. I played all the time, and your great-grandmother spoiled me with cookies. My teeth were full of cavities, though, and your great-grandfather banned me from eating sweets for a few months. One of the kids laughed, “Now we know where your sweet tooth came from!” Steve chuckled. “You can never go wrong with dessert. It always makes you happy.”
