When my ex-wife demanded that the money saved for our late son Peter’s college fund go to her stepson, Ryan, I was shocked. The money was for Peter, not some stranger. Susan had abandoned Peter when he was 12, and now she thought she had a right to his legacy.
At a tense meeting with her and her husband, Jerry, I reminded them that they had never cared for Peter the way I did. Susan’s fake sympathy and Jerry’s entitlement made me furious. I wasn’t going to let them dishonor my son’s memory.
Instead, I decided to fulfill Peter’s dream of visiting Belgium, a place we had always talked about. Using the money for what it was meant for—Peter—I took the trip alone, carrying his photo with me. As I walked through museums, castles, and even a brewery run by monks, I felt Peter’s presence, and the ache in my chest finally began to fade. This was our dream, and no one could take that from me.
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