My mother passed away one cold morning in late autumn—quietly, gently, like an old oil lamp slowly dimming until the flame vanished. She left behind no savings account, no house full of valuables. Just a crumbling little home on the edge of town… and a few worn-out belongings she’d guarded her entire life. The funeral was simple. No grand wreaths, no long speeches. Just a small crowd, some fading flowers, and three children sitting together—my two older brothers and me. That evening, we gathered