At my grandmother’s funeral, I watched my mother slip something into the coffin—What I discovered left me stunned
After the ceremony, as people began to leave, I went back to the coffin. I spotted a tiny corner of a wrapped…
After the ceremony, as people began to leave, I went back to the coffin. I spotted a tiny corner of a wrapped package, barely visible under Grandma’s body. I reached in, carefully took the package, and slipped it into my purse, hoping no one had seen. Part of me felt guilty, as if I was betraying my mom, but the urge to protect Grandma’s memory won out. Later, alone in my room, I unwrapped the package, feeling like I was about to uncover something very important.
All of her neighbors and friends were at the funeral home to say their last goodbye to the woman who touched many hearts and impacted many lives.
As I stood there with tears rolling down my eyes, I noticed my mother at the corner of the room. She was on her phone and acted as though she was about to say goodbye to a complete stranger. I knew she and my grandmother never got along, but her indifference to her own mother’s passing left me stunned.
At one point, when the place became crowded and I spoke to Mrs. Anderson, who reminded me how much my grandma loved me, I noticed my mother placing something in my grandma’s coffin. I didn’t know of any wishes my grandma had, so I couldn’t possibly assume what it was that my mother slipped inside.
Curiosity got the best of me, so I waited until everyone left before I took the box covered in a blue handkerchief from under my grandma’s dead body.
“I’m sorry, Grandma,” I whispered, touching her cold hand one last time.
Later that evening, I sat at my grandma’s rocking chair, staring at the package. “What are you hiding, Mom?” I muttered as I slowly untied the frayed thread. Inside were letters, each hand written by my grandmother to my mom.
In them, my grandma was writing that she knew what my did. She knew she was the one who was stealing her money in order to gamble. And in the last one, she wrote that she was leaving everything to me, the house, all her belongings, and the money she had been saving throughout the years.
I froze. This truth I discovered was too painful to handle. Suddenly, the lavish Christmas gifts, the requests to “borrow” my credit card for “emergencies,” and her push to gain power of attorney all took on a sinister light.
The following morning, I called my mom and asked her to meet me at the coffee shop at the corner.
Seeing me, she smiled. When she took the seat, she tried reaching my hand, but I refuse to touch me. Instead, I placed the pile of letters on the table and told her that if she tried to go after my grandma left me, the truth will be out.
She tried to speak, but I stood and left the place. It turns out that some secrets can’t be buried.
