When my ex-wife demanded the money I saved for our late son be given to her stepson, I thought grief had dulled my hearing. But as I sat across from her and her smug husband, their audacity crystal clear, I realized this wasn’t just about money — it was about defending my son’s legacy.
I sat on Peter’s bed, and the room was too quiet now. His things were everywhere. Books, medals, a half-finished sketch he’d left on the desk. Peter loved to draw when he wasn’t busy reading or figuring out some complicated problem that made my head spin.
A boy drawing | Source: Pexels
“You were too smart for me, kid,” I muttered, picking up a photo frame from his nightstand. He had that crooked grin, the one he’d flash whenever he thought he was outsmarting me. He usually was.
This picture was taken just before my smart boy got into Yale. I still couldn’t believe it sometimes. But he never got to go. The drunk driver made sure of that.
A man mourning his loved one | Source: Pexels
I rubbed my temples and sighed. The grief hit me in waves, like it had since November. Some days, I could almost function. Other days, like today, it swallowed me whole.
The knock on the door brought me back. Susan. She’d left a voicemail earlier. “We need to talk about Peter’s fund,” she’d said. Her voice was sweet but always too practiced, too fake. I didn’t call back. But, now, here she was.
A woman on her phone | Source: Pexels
I opened the door. She was dressed sharp as always, but her eyes were cold.
“Can I come in?” Susan asked, stepping past me before I could answer.
I sighed and motioned toward the living room. “Make it quick.”
She sat down, making herself at home. “Look,” she said, her tone was casual like this was no big deal. “We know Peter had a college fund.”
A woman on her couch | Source: Pexels
I immediately knew where this was going. “You’re kidding, right?”
Susan leaned forward, smirking. “Think about it. The money’s just sitting there. Why not put it to good use? Ryan could really benefit.”
“That money was for Peter,” I snapped. My voice rose before I could stop it. “It’s not for your stepson.”
Susan gave an exaggerated sigh, shaking her head. “Don’t be like this. Ryan is family too.”
An angry man | Source: Midjourney
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Family? Peter barely knew him. You barely knew Peter.”
Her face reddened, but she didn’t deny it. “Let’s meet for coffee tomorrow and discuss it. You, Jerry, and me.”
That evening, the memory of that conversation lingered as I sat back down on Peter’s bed. I looked around his room again, my heart aching. How did we get here?
A man sitting in his late son’s bedroom | Source: Midjourney
Peter had always been mine to raise. Susan left when he was 12. She didn’t want the “responsibility,” as she’d called it. “It’s better for Peter this way,” she’d said like she was doing us both a favor.
For years, it was just me and Peter. He was my world, and I was his. I’d wake up early to make his lunch, help him with homework after school, and sit in the stands cheering at his games. Susan didn’t bother. She’d send a card for his birthday, sometimes. No gifts, just a card with her name scrawled at the bottom.
A birthday card | Source: Pexels
That’s what made the one summer with Susan and Jerry so hard. Peter wanted to bond with them, even if I didn’t trust it. But when he came back, he was different. Quieter. One night, I finally got him to talk.
“They don’t care about me, Dad,” he’d said softly. “Jerry said I’m not his responsibility, so I ate cereal for dinner every night.”
I clenched my fists but didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to make it worse. But I never sent him back.
A sad boy | Source: Pexels
Peter didn’t mind, or at least he never showed it. He loved school, and he loved dreaming about the future. “One day, Dad,” he’d say, “we’re going to Belgium. We’ll see the museums, the castles. And don’t forget the beer monks!”
“Beer monks?” I’d laugh. “You’re a little young for that, aren’t you?”
“It’s research,” he’d reply with a grin. “Yale’s going to love me.”
A happy teenage boy | Source: Pexels
And they did. I remember the day the acceptance letter came. He opened it at the kitchen table, his hands shaking, and then he yelled so loud I thought the neighbors might call the cops. I’d never been prouder. Now, it was all gone.
That night, I barely slept, preparing for the conversation with Susan.
The next morning, I walked into the coffee shop, spotting them immediately. Susan was scrolling through her phone, looking bored. Jerry sat across from her, stirring his coffee so loudly it grated on my nerves. They didn’t even notice me at first.
A couple drinking coffee | Source: Freepik
I stood by their table. “Let’s get this over with.”
Susan looked up, her practiced smile snapping into place. “Oh, good. You’re here. Sit, sit.” She gestured like she was doing me a favor.
I slid into the chair across from them, saying nothing. I wanted them to speak first.
Jerry leaned back, his smug grin plastered across his face. “We appreciate you meeting us. We know this isn’t easy.”
A man in a cafe | Source: Pexels
I raised an eyebrow. “No, it’s not.”
Susan jumped in, her tone syrupy sweet. “We just think… it’s the right thing to do, you know? Peter’s fund — it’s not being used. And Ryan, well, he’s got so much potential.”
Jerry nodded, folding his arms. “College is expensive, man. You of all people should understand that. Why let that money sit there when it could actually help someone?”
A man talking to a serious woman | Source: Midjourney
“Someone?” I repeated, my voice low. “You mean your stepson?”
Susan sighed like I was being difficult. “Ryan is part of the family. Peter would have wanted to help.”
“Don’t you dare speak for Peter,” I snapped. “He barely knew Ryan. And let’s not pretend you cared about Peter either.”
Susan stiffened, her smile faltering. “That’s not fair.”
A serious woman talking to a man in a cafe | Source: Midjourney
“No?” I leaned forward, keeping my voice steady. “Let’s talk about fair. Fair is raising a kid, showing up for them, being there when it counts. I did that for Peter. You didn’t. You sent him to me because you were too busy with your ‘new family.’ And now you think you’re entitled to his legacy?”
Jerry’s smugness cracked for a second. He recovered quickly. “Look, it’s not about entitlement. It’s about doing the right thing.”
A smiling man in a cafe | Source: Freepik
“The right thing?” I laughed bitterly. “Like the summer Peter stayed with you? Remember that? Fourteen years old, and you wouldn’t even buy him dinner. You let him eat cereal while you and Susan had steak.”
Jerry’s face reddened, but he said nothing.
“That’s not true,” Susan said quickly, her voice shaky. “You’re twisting things.”
An annoyed woman in a cafe | Source: Midjourney
“No, I’m not,” I said sharply. “Peter told me himself. He tried to connect with you two. He wanted to believe you cared. But you didn’t.”
Jerry slammed his coffee cup onto the table. “You’re being ridiculous. Do you know how hard it is to raise a kid these days?”
“I do,” I shot back. “I raised Peter without a dime from either of you. So don’t you dare lecture me.”
An annoyed man talking to a woman | Source: Midjourney
The coffee shop had gone quiet. People were staring, but I didn’t care. I stood, glaring at both of them. “You don’t deserve a cent of that fund. It’s not yours. It never will be.”
Without waiting for a response, I turned and walked out.
Back home, I sat in Peter’s room again. The confrontation replayed in my mind, but it didn’t make the ache in my chest any lighter.
A man in his son’s room | Source: Midjourney
I picked up his photo from the desk — the one of us on his birthday. “They don’t get it, buddy,” I said softly. “They never did.”
I looked around the room, taking in the books, the drawings, the little pieces of him that still felt so alive here. My eyes landed on the map of Europe tacked to his wall. Belgium was circled in bright red marker.
A map of Europe | Source: Freepik
“We were supposed to go,” I whispered. “You and me. The museums, the castles, the beer monks.” I chuckled softly, my voice breaking. “You really had it all planned out.”
The ache in my chest deepened, but then something shifted. A new thought, a new resolve.
I opened my laptop and logged into the 529 Plan account. As I stared at the balance, I knew what to do. That money wasn’t for Ryan. It wasn’t for anyone else. It was for Peter. For us.
A man on his laptop | Source: Freepik
“I’m doing it,” I said aloud. “Belgium. Just like we said.”
A week later, I was on a plane, Peter’s photo tucked safely in my jacket pocket. The seat beside me was empty, but it didn’t feel that way. I gripped the armrest as the plane lifted off, my heart pounding.
“Hope you’re here with me, kid,” I whispered, glancing at his picture.
A man on a plane | Source: Freepik
The trip was everything we’d dreamed of. I walked through grand museums, stood in awe at towering castles, and even visited a brewery run by monks. I imagined Peter’s excitement, crooked grin, and endless questions at every stop.
On the last night, I sat by the canal, the city lights reflecting on the water. I pulled out Peter’s photo and held it up to the view.
A man sitting by the canal | Source: Pexels
“This is for you,” I said quietly. “We made it.”
For the first time in months, the ache in my chest felt lighter. Peter was gone, but he was with me. And this — this was our dream. I wouldn’t let anyone take it away.
A man sitting by a canal | Source: Midjourney
Betty, Dublin Zoo’s longest resident and oldest chimp in human care, dead at 62 — rest in peace
Betty, the chimpanzee that had been at the Dublin Zoo for the longest and the oldest living chimp under human care, passed away last week at the age of 62. She was one of the zoo’s most cherished and well-known inmates.
A zoo blog article claims that Betty had age-related ailments that were impairing her quality of life, and the tough choice to end her life was made to spare her from suffering in the future.
Although it is heartbreaking to lose Betty, she enjoyed a lengthy life that exceeded the average lifespan of a chimpanzee in captivity. According to the zoo, she was also the oldest chimpanzee in human care at the time of her death.
Team leader Helen Clarke Bennett of Dublin Zoo, who has worked as a zookeeper since 1987 and has known Betty for many years, paid tribute to her.
In 1964, a West African chimpanzee named Betty made her way to Dublin. Bennett notes that Betty participated in archaic practices like “Chimp Tea Parties” and that the Dublin Zoo continued to operate in the “style of the early Victorian era zoos” throughout that period.
Betty saw major advancements in zoo standards throughout her decades-long confinement. For example, in the 1990s, the chimp habitat was transformed from a metal-barred concrete “pit” to an island with trees.
Bennett claimed to have known Betty since the zoo’s early years since Michael Clarke, Betty’s father, was looking after her at the time. The chimp was “always strong-minded,” according to him, and would not give up on her goals.
After Wendy moved in 1964, Betty’s best friend, Wendy, became an integral part of her life for the majority of it. One of the cutest pairs in the zoo was formed by the two monkeys.
“Wendy had a cheeky side, but Betty could hold her accountable!” Bennett penned the piece. “When Wendy was obstinately refusing to go outside while the habitat was being cleaned, Betty putting her arm around her to encourage her to go outside with the rest of the troop will always be one of my favorite pictures.”
Betty and Wendy celebrated their 50th birthdays together in 2012 at the zoo. The zoo workers believed that Betty, who was devastated by Wendy’s death in 2014, wouldn’t be far behind.
She even managed to live on for a further ten years, rising to the rank of dominating female chimpanzee and earning the title of longest-serving inhabitant of the zoo.
Bennett stated that Betty experienced reduced kidney function and chronic arthritis in her latter years, which affected her weight and mobility. She was also under continuous wellness management.
They had to make the tough but humane decision to end the beloved chimp’s life after all medicinal and surgical alternatives had been tried. Even though Betty is no longer with us, she will always be cherished as a unique original and a zoogoer’s favorite for many decades to come.
“Although I am really saddened to bid farewell to a friend I have known since I was a young child, I am sure that Betty’s euthanasia was the right choice, ensuring that she didn’t suffer needlessly and preserving her dignity to the very end. That gives me a great deal of comfort,” Bennett wrote.
“Everyone here at Dublin Zoo as well as the many generations of visitors who were fortunate enough to know her will miss Betty terribly; there will never be another like her.”
Peace be with you, Betty. You lived a very long life, and it’s obvious that your loved ones and caregivers cherished you.
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