I went to my estranged father’s funeral thinking it would bring closure, but my grandmother’s urgent warning sent me running to his house instead. My half-siblings had skipped the service entirely, and when I found them tearing through his study, I realized exactly what they were up to.
I hadn’t seen my father in years. He left my mom and me when was a kid, and every time I tried to reach out as I got older, I got nothing back. Just silence.
I should’ve stopped caring, but it’s hard to let go of someone who’s supposed to be your dad. When I heard he died, I didn’t know how to feel. Was I sad? Angry? Relieved? Honestly, it was probably all of those at once.
When the funeral came, I felt like I had to go despite knowing it would be better not to. I don’t know why. Maybe I wanted closure, or maybe I just wanted to see who would be there.
The chapel was quiet except for the organ playing softly, and the smell of lilies hit me like a wall, too sweet and overwhelming. I fidgeted on the hard wooden bench, staring down at the little program they gave me at the door.
Robert Sr.
It was strange to see his name written like that as if he was just another man, not the ghost who had haunted me most of my life.
Nobody cried. Nobody looked that upset, actually. They just sat there, staring blankly, like they were waiting for the whole thing to be over. Meanwhile, my half-siblings, Robert Jr. and Barbara, whom I only met over the phone when they answered instead of my dad, weren’t even there.
That was weird. You’d think the kids he actually raised would show up, right?
Just as I was deciding if I should leave too, a hand, bony but strong, gripped my arm. I flinched and turned to see my grandmother, Estelle. I had only seen her a couple of times over the years.
She’d give me updates about my father and his new family, and I only listened because she was the only one from that side who had shown me any attention.
Her sharp eyes locked onto mine, and her face was all business. She leaned in close, so close I could smell her perfume, and started speaking.
“Look around, child,” she whispered. “Didn’t you notice? You shouldn’t be here. You need to run to his house. Now.”
I blinked at her. “What? Grandma, what are you talking about?”
She didn’t answer. She just pressed something cold into my hand. I looked down. A key. My confusion must’ve been written all over my face because she gripped my arm tighter.
“Trust me,” she continued, her voice steady and low. “Go. Quickly.”
Then she let go and straightened up like nothing had happened. I stared after her, stunned, while she disappeared back into the crowd.
For a second, I thought about just staying there. Maybe she was messing with me. Maybe she was losing it. But there was something in the way she looked at me that I couldn’t ignore.