Her letter to Milo explained everything. She left him her house, the one with the porch steps he had repaired, along with a trust to cover college if he wanted it. “You bought me flowers with your last dollar,” she wrote. “Let me give you a home with mine.” She signed it Grandma. Milo read it twice, then pressed the letter against his chest and cried without making a sound.

My brother tried to contest the will, and lost. The judge called the letters some of the clearest evidence she had ever seen. Milo moved into Mom’s house that spring and enrolled in community college to study carpentry. I’m his aunt, and I finally act like one. Last month, my brother called him for the first time. They are talking. Every year on Mom’s birthday, Milo brings yellow roses to her grave. And he always buys a second bunch for me.