“I cut my uncle out of my life the day my grandma died. She had terminal lung cancer and for the last three months of her life, she lived out in complete agony. My mother and I moved in with her to care for her full time. I was only 18 years old, working, and still in school. It took so much out of me. And my uncle didn’t once offer us a hand.
And when we asked him for help he was essentially like, ‘Ew, no. She smells like pee.’
In the days leading up to her death when she was pretty much a vegetable, he finally came round to discuss how her money was going to be handled. Demanding he was entitled to more than us because he was the eldest. Despite the fact that he was incredibly well-off, didn’t do anything to help my grandma while she was dying, and the fact my mother and I were essentially living in poverty at the time. All he cared about was her money.
It has been two years since she died and all of that stuff is still being sorted out. I refuse to talk to him now. I hate him. He’s such a heartless pig who couldn’t even be upset about his mother dying because he was so excited at the prospect of receiving money.”