A few months ago, I shared my experience at Camp FI Rocky Mountains 2024 and an unexpected lesson I learned about inheritance laws. If you haven’t read that post, you can find it here. At the time, I was optimistic, maybe even naïve, about how my own situation would play out. I had no doubt that my stepmother, a woman who had been in my life since I was eight years old, would ensure I had legal rights to my father’s things. Unfortunately, I was wrong.
My father and stepmother met in 1989 and were together for nearly 30 years before he passed away unexpectedly in 2018. His loss devastated both of us. In the years following his death, I called my stepmother almost weekly, and we would talk for hours. In a way, those calls helped me hold onto a small piece of my dad, something familiar, something comforting. I never called her “Mom,” because I already had one, but in every other way, she was a mother figure to me.
So, when I learned at Camp FI that, legally, I had no inheritance rights as a stepson, I didn’t panic. I told my friends with confidence that my stepmother would sign a will recognizing me as an heir. There was no question in my mind. This was a woman who had been in my life for decades, someone I loved and trusted. But after six months of asking, offering to coordinate, plan, and even cover the cost, she told me, unequivocally, that she would not be signing a will.
I was blindsided. When I asked why, she told me she had purchased the house from her parents before she ever met my father, and it should be inherited solely by her biological son. I assured her I had no interest in the house, that I was happy to have a lawyer stipulate that all real estate would go to her son. But that didn’t change her decision.
It wasn’t about money or property. It was about feeling like I belonged.
As a child of divorce, I always felt like I was split between two families, never fully belonging to either one. My father was my constant. His home was my home. His things were part of my life. To be told, after 35 years, that I had no real place in that legacy was gut-wrenching. I tried to explain what this decision meant to me, how it made me feel like I was never truly part of her family. Her response? Life isn’t fair.
That was the last conversation I’ll ever have with her.
This experience has been painful, but it’s also a cautionary tale. If you’re in a blended family, don’t assume anything when it comes to inheritance. Love doesn’t always translate to legal rights, and the people you trust may not see family the same way you do. If this situation has taught me anything, it’s that clarity and legal documentation matter, because assumptions can leave you heartbroken.
