A Father’s Love, Worth Only Paper

My father once said that when a person dies, they leave their most prized possession to the one they love the most.

When he passed away, my younger sister inherited three houses and two million dollars in cash.

My mother, her eyes red from crying, shoved a thick photo album into my arms. Her voice choked with sobs. "Your father loved you the most, Shavon."

I opened the album. On the back of every single photograph was my father's handwritten signature.

The photos were all of me, crouching by the front door of my grandmother's house.