My brother Caleb and I made a commitment following the death of our cherished grandma, Mama Eileen, also known as Mama E to everyone who knew her. It was a commitment, delivered with tears in our eyes and her memories weighing heavily on our minds, not merely a lighthearted suggestion made at the burial. Her last wish had been straightforward but sincere: sell her little, humble home and donate the money to start an animal refuge. Mama E had always had a special place in her heart for the forgotten, including injured birds, elderly dogs, and stray cats. She lavished love on anything that had feathers or fur.
We had spreadsheets, plans, and names chosen, and we envisioned a place where elderly dogs could live out their days in peace—the kind of place Mama E would have loved. However, Aunt Sheryl showed up. She had been absent for years due to family drama involving stolen heirlooms and a “accidental” depletion of Mama E’s savings account, and her name was rarely brought up anymore because it was too painful and embarrassing. When she appeared at our door, weak, trembling, and crying, claiming to be dying of cancer and without a roof over her head, we were at a loss for what to do. She collapsed into Caleb’s arms like a broken thing.
Yes, we were doubtful, but even the most difficult realities can be broken by suffering. We reasoned that perhaps this was Mama E’s last gift to us—a chance for forgiveness and atonement. We allowed Sheryl to remain in the house out of shame and a misplaced belief that family still had value. We then gave the house to her. We made a mistake.
One week later, Caleb and I were driving through town when we saw her — Aunt Sheryl, healthy and bright, cruising down Main Street in a brand-new, candy-apple red Tesla. She was chatting loudly about how her “performance” had paid off while laughing into her phone, sunglasses on, and windows down. She boasted that she “cried on cue.” “They completely believed it. The house sold quickly, and I’m We were devastated. enraged. betrayed. We had been duped like idiots, and Mama E’s request had been thrown away like rubbish. We considered taking legal action and spoke with a few lawyers, but ultimately, the legal process felt unsatisfactory and slow. What could we actually get back? A house in ruins? The faith we had put in our family?
Instead, we used our imagination.
In her name, we started a phony fundraiser. “Aunt Sheryl’s Shelter for Sick Pets – In Loving Memory of Mama Eileen” was the name of it. We developed glossy posters, created an emotional website, posted on community forums, and went out to local media. Soon, people were calling Sheryl from every direction — church organizations giving donations, animal lovers wondering how to help, media seeking interviews.
When you gently push karma, it turns out to move quickly.
We found out a few weeks later that Sheryl was being sued by the buyer of Mama E’s house. Massive structural deterioration, including a fractured foundation and a mildew infestation, had apparently been concealed by her. In addition, her former lover Rich, who is the type of man who maintains receipts, reappeared with pictures, texts, and barely disguised threats, demanding his share of her windfall.
Then, as abruptly as she had returned, Sheryl was gone again. There was no longer a Tesla. She was seen driving out of town in a dilapidated station wagon, looking far less like the woman who had left laughing and more like the one who had initially arrived crying.
She never returned to our sight. Caleb and I focused our energies on Mama E’s true dream instead of spending the money on legal bills. We began modestly, with only a few senior dog foster homes, a few volunteers, and a great deal of compassion. Mama E’s Hope House is what we dubbed it. Although it is not yet a complete shelter, it is expanding daily. It feels like we are laying another brick in the foundation she intended us to create with each senior pup we preserve.
No, Aunt Sheryl’s life was not ruined by us. That was her own doing. We simply shifted the focus to her for a brief period of time, allowing the truth to emerge.
And Mama E? She would’ve tilted her head, given that knowing little smile, and said the same words she always did when justice found its way: *“What goes around comes around.”