I went to my estranged father’s funeral hoping for closure, but my grandmother’s urgent warning sent me running to his house instead. My half-siblings skipped the service, and when I found them rummaging through his study, I realized their intentions.
My father had left us when I was a kid, and after years of silence, I didn’t know how to feel when I heard he died—sad, angry, or relieved. I went to the funeral, unsure if I wanted closure or just to see who would show up.
The chapel was somber, and my half-siblings weren’t there. As I considered leaving, my grandmother, Estelle, grabbed my arm and whispered that I needed to go to my father’s house. She handed me a key, urging me to trust her.
Confused, I left the funeral and drove to his house. It looked well-kept, more than I remembered. I entered and heard voices coming from his study. Inside, I found Robert Jr. and Barbara searching through his papers and cash. Before I could speak, a man in a suit introduced himself as the family notary.
Just then, Grandma Estelle appeared and revealed that my father had wanted his estate divided equally. She explained they had tried to cheat me, but he had left a clause stating if they tried to take more, everything would go to me. Barbara and Robert protested, but the notary confirmed the will.
I opened a letter from my father, where he apologized for abandoning me and expressed regret for not being there. His words, though too late, soothed a part of me that had been in pain for years.
As my half-siblings were escorted out, I was left alone in the house, holding my father’s apology, wondering if it was possible to truly know someone after they’re gone.
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