I Went to My Estranged Father’s Funeral, but My Grandma’s Words Left Me Stunned: ‘You Shouldn’t Be Here’

Believing that attending my estranged father’s funeral might bring me some closure, I rushed to his house after receiving an urgent warning from my grandmother. Upon arrival, I found my half-siblings rummaging through his study, their actions leaving no doubt about their intentions—they hadn’t even bothered to attend the service.

It had been years since I last saw my father. He abandoned my mother and me when I was a child, and as I grew older, I never heard back from him. Nothing but quiet.

It’s difficult to let go of someone who is meant to be your father, but I should have stopped caring. I wasn’t sure how to react when I learned of his passing. Was I depressed? Furious? Feeling relieved? It was probably all of things at once, to be honest.

Even though I knew it would be better not to, I felt compelled to attend the funeral. I have no idea why. Perhaps I simply wanted to see who would be there, or perhaps I wanted closure.

The overwhelming scent of flowers filled the air, almost cloying in its sweetness, while the soft notes of the organ echoed gently through the chapel. I fidgeted on the unforgiving wooden bench, my eyes fixed on the small program handed to me at the entrance.

Robert Sr.

Seeing his name printed that way, as though he were simply another man rather than the ghost that had plagued me for the majority of my life, was odd.

No one shed a tear. In fact, no one appeared to be that distressed. They appeared to be waiting for the entire situation to end as they sat there and stared blankly. My half-siblings, Barbara and Robert Jr., who I only spoke to on the phone when they answered in place of my father, weren’t even present at the time.

It was strange. The children he truly reared should appear, wouldn’t they?

A strong, bony hand grabbed my arm as I was considering leaving as well. I winced and turned to look at Estelle, my grandma. Over the years, I had only seen her a few times.

Since she was the only one from that side who had paid any attention to me, I only listened to her when she gave me updates about my father and his new family.

Her face was all business as her piercing eyes met mine. She began talking as she leaned in so close I could smell her scent.

Whispering, “Look around, child,” she said. “Have you not noticed? You’re not supposed to be here. You must hurry to his home. “Now.”

I gave her a blink. “What? “What are you talking about, Grandma?”

She didn’t respond. She simply placed a cold object in my hand. I glanced down. A key. She must have noticed my bewilderment because she tightened her hold on my arm.

“Trust me,” she added in a steady, low voice. “Leave. As soon as possible.”

She then relaxed and stood up as if nothing had occurred. As she vanished back into the mob, I gaped after her in disbelief.

I considered just staying there for a moment. Perhaps she was trying to trick me. Perhaps she was going crazy. But I couldn’t help but notice something in the way she gazed at me.

I got to my feet.

With the key firmly grasped in my palm, I quietly slid out of the chapel. After that stuffy, gloomy room, the sunlight outside felt too bright. After taking a deep breath, I got into my car and headed to his place.

I had forgotten how magnificent the two-story property was. The yard was beautifully planted, and the freshly painted walls shone in the sunlight. My father seemed to have had a deep affection for this house. He definitely gave it more thought than he did while he was raising me.

I stared at the front door as I parked in the freshly paved driveway. I’m not supposed to be here. Before he left us, this was my home. We initially stayed, but his attorney promptly ejected us. I had to understand Grandma’s meaning, even though it seemed strange to be here.

As I approached the door, the lock made a gentle click. I pushed the door open, and the hinges resonated. It was silent inside. The air had a clean, fresh scent with a faint suggestion of something nice, like lavender or lemon.

I made my way across the living room. Newer, more fashionable furniture had taken the place of the old furniture I recalled, yet there was an odd feeling that the home was heavier in some way, like a held breath.

I heard the voices at that point.

They came from someplace down the hall, and they were faint. I strained to listen while I froze. The study of my father. I have recollections of it from my childhood. I was never permitted entry.

I approached on tiptoe. I could hear the voices more clearly outside the door.

A man remarked, “This has to be it,”

This voice was unfamiliar to me, but it had to be Robert Jr.

“The deed, the account numbers,” he added in a desperate tone. “We need to find them before she does.”

“You’re correct. She’s unable to locate them. Where might he have concealed them? A woman’s voice retorted. Barbara had to be the one.

I gasped. Hold on. Were they referring to me?

I gave the door a slight shove. Robert was standing near my father’s desk, carrying a stack of papers, as I went inside. Barbara was on the ground going through a stack of cash and papers from a wall safe that was open.

What were they doing?

I jumped as I heard a soft voice say, “Well,” behind me. “Your father’s suspicions were right.”

I turned and saw a man in a gray suit standing in front of me. He appeared composed, almost bored.

“Who are you?” I swallowed hard and whispered.

He said, “Mr. Davis,” and held up a brown folder. “The family notary.”

The door was yanked open before I could speak to this man. I nearly stumbled across the threshold. Barbara was there, and when she spotted us, her face twisted in rage.

She said, “What the hell are you doing here?”

Robert’s face became white as he turned to the doorway. “Emily? You’re not supposed to be here.

I started to say something, but Mr. Davis spoke before me.

Calmly, he stated, “She actually has every right to be here.”

Barbara gave him a fierce look. “What are you discussing? “Who are you?”

“Ask your grandmother,” said Mr. Davis.

And then she was there. Mr. Davis and I were passed by Grandma Estelle. She walked confidently inside the study, ignoring Barbara’s frown.

After glancing over the mayhem my half-siblings had caused, her gaze finally locked with mine.

“Sweetheart,” she whispered, “I wanted you to witness this. to recognize them for their true selves.”

“I don’t understand,” I shook my head and murmured.

“I think my son’s illness ultimately woke him up, even if he never admitted the many mistakes he did as a child. Grandma Estelle went on, raising her chin in the direction of my half-siblings, “He wanted to divide his estate between the three of you.” “But I knew they’d try to cheat you out of your part.”

Barbara and Robert Jr. burst out laughing, but I simply shook my head. “What they attempted to do is irrelevant, Grandma. My father’s money is not what I want. I had never met him.

“See?” Robert Jr. began, glaring angrily between us. “She doesn’t deserve it and doesn’t want it. Since she wasn’t a part of his life, we own his estate.

Grandma Estelle gave him a cold look. “It’s what your father wanted — what he explicitly warned you about,” she told my half-siblings as she turned to face Mr. Davis. “Please, read my son’s exact words.”

Lifting the packet, the notary started reading. “To my children: I’m dead if you’re listening. I desire a fair division of my estate. However, as we agreed, Emily will get everything if either of you tries to claim more than your fair share.

Robert Jr. yelled and Barbara gasped, both of them instantly going on a rant about how unjust everything was. Mr. Davis paid them no attention.

Simply put, “Your actions today triggered this clause,” he said. “You now own his entire estate, Emily. He left you this letter as well.

I opened the sealed packet he handed me with unsteady hands.

“Emily,

I apologize for all of this. I apologize for missing all those years and not being a part of your life. Actually, I was naive and young. At the time, I told myself that walking away was the only option, even though it was the worst mistake of my life.

Your mother was always so capable and strong. She had a fire within her that scared me even as a child. In contrast, I was a child pretending to be an adult. I had a comfortable and carefree life growing up, therefore I was afraid of the burden of being a father and supporting a family. I decided to run. Like a coward.

To truly understand how foolish and careless I had been, I had to confront my own mortality. I had sacrificed a happy life and a devoted family because I was terrified. The children I did raise exhibit the same vulnerability, which exacerbates the situation. They only cared about money and who received more attention after their mother passed away. It made me nauseous.

Then I investigated you after all these years. I saw who you had grown into. How you put yourself through school and obtained a computer science degree, starting at the age of 14. About your close relationship with your mother and your stable employment. Despite my absence, you created a good life for yourself. And it helped me see how self-centered I had been.

Making apologies isn’t the point of this mansion or this money. I’m aware that I’ll never be able to. However, I hope it conveys to you my apologies for everything. I’m sorry I left. I’m sorry I missed you. Above all, I’m sorry I wasn’t the father you were due.

Emily, have a wonderful life. You deserve it.

Tears obscured my eyes. I had been angry for a long time. I had battled the anguish of a father who was absent and thoughts of abandonment. I felt overwhelmed now. He had examined me. He was pleased with the life I had created.

All I could do was wish he had contacted me. I’m not sure if I would have forgiven him, but perhaps I would have made an effort to learn more about him.

The situation might have been different. But when I started crying, I also recognized my gratitude. These words calmed something within of me, not the house, the money, or anything else.

I heard my half-siblings being escorted out by Grandma Estelle. As they walked out of the house, their complaints soon subsided. I concentrated on Mr. Davis, who told me to give him a call to settle the legal issues.

Then I found myself by myself in my father’s home, which had once been mine and was now my last opportunity to get to know him. Was it possible to get to know someone after they had passed away? I pondered, but I guess I was going to find out soon enough.