As my father d.ied, grief didn’t hit me like a ton of bricks, and it didn’t make me feel like I couldn’t get out of bed. Rather, it took over me quietly.

The reading of the will was simple. Nothing out of the ordinary. My half-sister got the house, the savings, the kind of things you associate with a lifetime of work. Papers were signed, numbers were read aloud, and everything seemed neat and final. As the attorney finally turned his gaze upon me, he hesitated a moment too long before speaking.

I was left my father’s cactus.

It was the very same cactus that sat by his window as long as I could remember and leaned a little toward the light. It was uneven but still stable.

My half-sister laughed. She told me that she had children to raise and things to do. I was 42, independent, and capable, and I could do with something as symbolic as a simple plant.

I didn’t say a single word. Instead, I took the cactus home, like I do with all kinds of plants, cradling the pot as though it could shatter.

For Complete Cooking STEPS Please Head On Over To Next Page Or Open button (>) and don’t forget to SHARE with your Facebook friends.