STEPMOM WHO KEPT ME AWAY FROM DAD’S FUNERAL, NOW WISHES SHE HADN’T…

After Chloe was born, we almost never went home again.

The house completely didn’t feel like ours anymore. With Brenda and her new golden child living there, the house now entirely belonged to Dad’s new, shiny family. We were just the painful relics of his past.

Dad used to make the effort to visit us in the city and take us out for expensive dinners, but eventually, we slowly distanced ourselves from him. It was not that we hated him. We were just deeply uncomfortable around him after he so suddenly rubbed his new, perfect life in our faces while we were still actively mourning the destruction of our old one.

But to his credit, Dad didn’t give up on us entirely. He still called us regularly to check on us. He visited us whenever Brenda “allowed” him a free afternoon.

After college, Emily moved into my downtown Chicago apartment with me. By then, I was earning incredibly well in a highly competitive consulting job in the Loop. A few years later, Emily also secured a fantastic job in corporate banking and bought her own beautiful apartment just a few blocks away. Dad was incredibly proud to see us excelling in our careers despite the massive trauma we had endured.

Time flew by. Dad turned sixty five years old, and his physical health was not looking that great. He was slowing down, his breathing was shallow, and his heart was giving him trouble. As the holiday season approached, he called and practically begged us to come to the Evanston house to spend Thanksgiving and Christmas with him.

Emily and I desperately wanted to spend the holiday season with Dad, especially given his failing health, but we absolutely did not want to see Brenda and her spoiled daughter.

The last time we had visited our old house was five agonizing years ago. It was for Dad’s sixtieth birthday party. Brenda was openly annoyed at our presence and she made it painfully evident to absolutely everyone in the room.

She didn’t speak a single word to us. She didn’t greet us at the door. She didn’t offer us a single drink or a plate of food.

We felt like total strangers trespassing at a private country club. The guests were almost entirely from her side of the family, except for a very small handful of Dad’s old friends and business colleagues.

Now, the thing is, in this current situation, Emily and I were in a massive dilemma. If we really spent the festivities with them, it meant voluntarily walking back into the lion’s den. Should we really subject ourselves to Brenda’s abuse, or should we skip it entirely?

Skipping the holidays would absolutely crush Dad. He had insisted with tears in his voice that we join him. But if we go, it means totally ruining our own holiday mood. Emily cleverly suggested that we politely invite Dad to my downtown apartment and go on a private vacation with him instead.

But I deeply felt he wanted to spend the holidays with Brenda and Chloe as well. They were his family too, just like us. It felt entirely unfair to aggressively force him to choose between us and his new family, especially when he was sick.

I absolutely dreaded meeting Brenda again, but I thought we simply had to bite the bullet and do this for the sake of my dying father.

When the holiday season finally arrived, we braced ourselves for the worst. But the holidays turned out to be incredibly, surprisingly special.

It had been so many years since we had a good holiday. It beautifully reminded me of the golden times when Mom used to be alive. It used to be so much fun. I deeply think Dad actually took his heavy lessons from the disastrous incident at his sixtieth birthday.

This time, he aggressively put his foot down. He explicitly ordered Brenda to keep her toxic, loud extended family entirely away from our Thanksgiving dinner and Christmas Eve celebrations.

Dad actively invited his own old friends and our blood relatives for a massive change. My distant uncle Robert and my aunts also joined the massive dinner. We had not met them in so many long years. It was a beautiful, tearful reunion.

Brenda and her daughter, Chloe, absolutely did not seem to be happy about this arrangement. For fifteen years, Brenda had always aggressively involved her own family and friends on absolutely all occasions at our house, and Dad had simply been putting up with her demands to keep the peace. B

ut this time, when Dad firmly insisted on only having his side of the family present, she viciously resisted it. They had a massive screaming match behind closed doors. But Dad had now firmly put down his foot. Brenda was forced to bitterly cancel calling her own guests.

I think, in his failing health, he was finally, clearly able to see the true, ugly colors of Brenda.

And if Brenda was an evil woman, her golden daughter Chloe was exactly ten times worse than her. She is no less than an absolute monster. She was barely twelve years old at the time, yet she aggressively threw massive, screaming tantrums like an unhinged adult.

She is just so incredibly narcissistic and demands that the entire world revolve exclusively around her. She wants absolutely everything handed to her on a silver platter at her fingertips, and if she doesn’t get exactly what she wants, she violently screams and curses at the top of her lungs, practically bringing down the entire house.

It was painfully evident that Dad deeply hated her toxic attitude. Growing up, Emily and I were always so incredibly obedient, quiet, and civil. I deeply think watching Chloe’s monstrous behavior was the exact moment Dad truly realized exactly how beautifully and perfectly my real mother had raised us, and exactly how terribly Brenda had raised her own daughter.

Brenda was absolutely furious that we were there enjoying the holidays. She was literally screaming in the kitchen that Emily and I were intentionally intruding on her private, safe space by simply sitting in the living room having a glass of wine with Dad. I noticed Dad was completely furious at her behavior, and in fact, he did actively try to passionately school her in private, but she has gone far too far to ever be leashed or controlled.

When we were finally packing our bags and leaving to go back to the city, Dad pulled us in for a tight hug and emotionally said that he would visit us in Chicago in the next few months. Emily firmly insisted that we go for a private family trip. Just the three of us.

For Emily and me, “family” is just Dad and us. It is absolutely not Brenda and her spoiled daughter. Brenda also never considers us to be her family anyway. In fact, I deeply think she doesn’t even consider Dad to be her real family. He is just a convenient, wealthy money making machine for them to fund their lavish lifestyle.

So, we eagerly planned a short, beautiful trip for the next month. We desperately hoped this private time would finally rekindle the deeply broken bond between us and Dad.

The trip was absolutely fantastic. We rented a beautiful cabin near Lake Geneva. We had an absolute blast. We had truly never seen Dad look so incredibly happy and relaxed. We could feel that he was completely, suffocatingly trapped in that toxic relationship with Brenda, but by the time he finally realized the massive mistake he had made, he felt it was far too late for him to take any legal action. He was just miserably putting up with the monstrous mother daughter duo because he felt he deserved the punishment.

To our immense surprise, Dad completely refused to go back to the Evanston house after the trip. He stayed back at my downtown Chicago apartment with me.

I heavily felt like he was terrified to go back to Brenda’s daily psychological warfare. During his extended stay, I proudly introduced my long term girlfriend, Sarah, to Dad. They completely bonded so well. Sarah lives just in the apartment next door to mine. Dad was incredibly worried that his prolonged stay might be heavily invading my privacy and my relationship, but I aggressively assured him that he could stay with us for as long as he possibly wanted.

Sarah also lovingly pushed him to stay with me. She tragically doesn’t have a father of her own, so meeting with mine was an incredibly good, healing experience for her. She absolutely loved spending time with him. They went for long walks along the Chicago Riverwalk, they went shopping together on Michigan Avenue, and they cooked dinners. My dad also beautifully treated her exactly like she was his own daughter.

Emily lives very close by, so she also used to drop by my house every single evening after work during my dad’s stay. We had massive, joyful family dinners together for most of the days. On the weekends, we went fishing on Lake Michigan or camping in the dense woods. It was just so incredibly good for our souls. We had never felt so completely happy and whole before.

Dad finally went back home to Evanston a few days later, and we really, deeply missed his presence. He warmly said he would visit us very often now that he was officially retired from his corporate work. It physically hurts my chest to see him so incredibly lonely and miserable in his own massive house.

He is getting old, and he is absolutely not keeping fit. At this fragile time in his life, he desperately needs the pure love and support of his real family the most. I highly, highly doubt he is getting a single ounce of care from Brenda and her daughter.

Emily and I were trying our absolute best to keep him happy. He promised he would visit us again very soon.

But then, the absolute worst happened.

There is devastating, horrific news. Dad passed away a week ago.

I didn’t even get the time to process it immediately because of the chaotic, unnecessary, and evil hassle going around in our lives right now. After my dad’s beautiful stay at my house, he enthusiastically visited us again four or five times in the last six months. He was just so incredibly lonely at his house with Brenda. He actively searched for any excuse or opportunity to spend his time with us in the city.

But with every single visit, he looked physically weaker. His skin was pale. He was not keeping well at all, but staying with us clearly made his spirit feel better. We absolutely couldn’t be happier to have him with us.

The very last time he visited us, he completely broke down crying during one of our dinners. He sobbed and said that every single time he visited us, he lived with the terrifying fear that it would be the absolute last time he ever saw us. We frantically cheered him up and practically begged him to stay with us for a much longer time. He stayed, but not for long enough.

I desperately wanted him to permanently stay with me for the remaining part of his life, but the massive challenge was that he had absolutely no friends near my place. He knew no one in the downtown area. We lived in a bustling high rise where people barely talk to any strangers in the elevators.

When Emily and I were busy at work all day, he used to get incredibly bored. Living in his own Evanston house might be completely suffocating for him because of Brenda, but at least he had his old neighborhood friends and familiar neighbors to chill out with during the day.

Our entire world came violently crashing down last week when I got a frantic phone call from my Uncle Robert about Dad’s sudden demise.

My sister, my girlfriend, and I left for the Evanston house immediately. We drove like absolute maniacs.

Brenda didn’t inform a single one of us about his death.

It was actually Dad’s observant neighbors who had frantically called Uncle Robert when they saw that absolutely all of us were missing from the church. Uncle Robert then immediately informed all the other blood relatives to look for us.

While driving, I desperately called Brenda’s cell phone to ask about the funeral arrangements. She entirely refused to talk to me properly. Her spoiled daughter, Chloe, aggressively snatched the phone from her hand and coldly said that Brenda was “far too distraught with the massive loss” and absolutely wasn’t in a mental state to talk to anyone. But neither of them sounded remotely depressed. They sounded annoyed that I was calling.

Because of the terrible Chicago traffic, it took us a painful while to finally reach the neighborhood. Uncle Robert lived significantly closer to the house, so he was able to reach the area right before us. After reaching the quiet street, he got to know from the shocked neighbors that Dad’s body was already completely taken to the cemetery for burial, followed directly by the funeral service.

The neighbors also sadly informed us that Dad was absolutely not keeping well for the last few terrible days. He did not even step out of the house for his usual morning walks. A day ago, he was suddenly rushed to the hospital in an ambulance when his pulse violently dropped.

But Brenda did absolutely not inform any of us that he was in the hospital dying.

He didn’t have any massive, traumatic health concerns like cancer; it was just that he was getting incredibly fragile, and his core immunity was draining dangerously low. He passed away quietly the last day in the cold hospital bed. Completely alone, except for Brenda.

The very next day was Dad’s official funeral. Brenda had an entire twenty four hours to easily pick up the phone and inform his own flesh and blood children, but she absolutely didn’t. When the neighbors attended the service and didn’t find a single member of Dad’s side of the family present, one of them panicked and quickly called my Uncle Robert.

By the agonizing time we got to know the truth and rushed madly to the churchyard, his body was already actively being taken to the burial site.

I frantically called Brenda’s cell phone several times from the car, screaming and begging her to just delay the burial for a brief while until his children could arrive, but she absolutely didn’t listen. She callously hung up the phone on me every single time I called.

When we finally, breathlessly reached the muddy churchyard, the funeral was completely, entirely over. The dirt was already moved. They were actively walking out of the cemetery gates.

Emily and I physically blocked Brenda’s path. She was wearing a ridiculously expensive black lace dress, looking completely unbothered. I aggressively asked her why she didn’t include his own children in his funeral.

She immediately started violently yelling at us in front of the remaining guests. She put on a massive, theatrical performance, acting like a brutalized victim. She screamed that she had just lost the love of her life, her beloved husband, and we were cruelly troubling her in her time of grief. She loudly announced to the crowd that we had maliciously abandoned our poor father when he was alive, and now we were just violently leeching around his dead body looking for a piece of his property.

Her daughter, Chloe, was no less evil. She aggressively verbally abused us and loudly threatened to call the police on us if we didn’t stay entirely away from them.

Brenda’s loud, obnoxious family members also aggressively intervened and violently yelled at us. They screamed that we were deeply evil children and that we had never, ever bothered to check upon our father when he was alive and suffering.

My Uncle Robert bravely stepped in and aggressively defended us, screaming the truth at them, but they were in dozens. We were completely outnumbered.

It was such an incredibly heartbreaking, completely devastating, and emotional day for us to violently lose our beloved father like this. We just absolutely didn’t have the mental or physical energy to fight a screaming match with these toxic monsters in a graveyard.

We quietly walked away from the screaming mob. We went inside the cemetery gates alone and tearfully paid our final tribute to the fresh, muddy grave. Though we absolutely could not see his face for the final time to say goodbye, I am incredibly glad we had spent enough beautiful, quality time with him over the last few glorious years.

We sat completely frozen for an hour near his wet grave in the rain, holding each other and crying until we had no tears left. Uncle Robert gently told us that he heard Brenda was supposedly organizing a massive, catered prayer reception for Dad at the house, but we deeply knew we wouldn’t be allowed inside the door. That evil woman didn’t even let us attend our own dad’s funeral. We absolutely cannot expect her to invite us into her house for the prayers.

We left for my downtown apartment immediately after that. There was absolutely no point in staying in that toxic environment.

It has been a full, agonizing week since we lost him, and we are yet not able to fully come to the terms that he is completely no longer with us. We deeply miss him so incredibly dearly.

But wow, life can suddenly take such an incredibly weird, beautiful turn. It is truly unbelievable.

A few hours after I got home, I got an unexpected phone call from Mr. Sterling, my father’s senior lawyer.

Mr. Sterling firmly told us that he absolutely wanted Emily and me to be completely present for the official reading of my father’s will. He clearly said the reading was supposed to happen on that very day, and he had explicitly informed Brenda a week ago to ask absolutely everyone in the family to be present in his office.

Brenda had smoothly told the lawyer “okay.” But when the strict lawyer arrived at his office for the reading, he didn’t find Emily or me anywhere. Brenda smugly told the lawyer that we were absolutely not required to be there, and that the will can easily be read entirely in our absence. She claimed we didn’t care.

Mr. Sterling completely shut her down. The lawyer aggressively said that Dad had explicitly, legally mentioned very clearly in his documents that the final will absolutely must be read in front of ALL the family members at the exact same time. And in that strict legal case, his firstborn son and daughter absolutely could not be left out of the room under any circumstances.

He aggressively canceled the reading and gave Brenda a week’s time to wait. He personally tracked me down and commanded us to come down to his downtown Chicago office for the official will reading.

Emily and I walked into the massive mahogany office building. Brenda and her daughter Chloe were sitting in the leather chairs. They were absolutely furious and not happy to see us walk through the door. They aggressively made disgusted faces at us. They had several of her loud family members aggressively accompanying her for moral support. I completely ignored them.

While we were sitting in the tense room waiting for the lawyer to officially begin, Brenda started loudly badmouthing us right to our faces. She was smugly telling her family exactly how incredibly stupid we were to drive all the way down here just to pathetically watch absolutely everything go to her. They loudly called us greedy, spoiled brats and said we never cared for her father and had entirely abandoned them in their time of need.

Emily completely lost her mind and aggressively gave it right back to her. She loudly told the entire room that it was Brenda who was an incredibly greedy monster, completely leeching onto Dad’s hard earned money for fifteen years. She screamed that Brenda was the exact toxic reason who forcefully drove us to leave our own childhood house before our time. My sister furiously ranted about exactly how severely depressed and miserable Dad used to be living with a monster like Judy.

It almost led to a violent physical scuffle between them in the waiting room, and I aggressively had to physically intervene and pull Emily back.

By then, Mr. Sterling had arrived at his massive chamber. He ordered everyone to sit down and be silent.

The lawyer started off the heavy meeting by officially stating that it was Dad’s absolute final, legally binding will, and he had firmly signed it in his full mental senses. He warned everyone that whatever the document stated, we had to legally accept it without causing a scene in his office.

To be completely honest, I never took this meeting seriously because Dad absolutely never had that great a massive wealth, apart from the expensive Evanston house in which Brenda currently lived, and some decent retirement savings.

Even when Dad visited us in the city, he absolutely never talked about having any substantial, massive wealth hidden away.

Neither had we ever bothered to ask him about money.

My sister and I both earned incredibly decently. She was high up into Corporate Banking, and I was deeply into Management Consulting, so personal money was absolutely never a problem for us.

Things took an incredibly steep, terrifying turn for Brenda when the lawyer began actually reading the specifics of the will.

It came as a massive, earth shattering surprise to the entire room that my dad had a completely secret, heavily funded trust fund worth exactly one million dollars.

Brenda’s greedy eyes instantly lit up like massive fireworks. A huge, smug smirk spread across her face. She sat up straighter, looking at her family members in absolute triumph.

That smug smile lasted for exactly a brief period of three seconds.

Until the legal heir of the massive trust fund was officially called out by the lawyer.

Dad had legally, explicitly willed the entire one million dollar trust fund completely to me and my sister.

Yes. He had completely, secretly willed absolutely all of his hard earned, hidden money directly to us.

The massive Evanston house was legally willed to Brenda. Nothing separate was willed to her spoiled daughter, Chloe. But there was a massive legal catch. Once Chloe officially turned eighteen years old, the full legal deed of the house would be completely passed directly to Chloe.

It legally meant that Brenda was nothing more than the temporary, unpaid caretaker of the physical house until her daughter turned eighteen. She didn’t even own the walls she slept in.

The small amount of remaining money from their basic daily joint checking account went to Brenda to cover immediate bills.

Brenda sat perfectly still in her leather chair, aggressively waiting for the lawyer to read the rest of the will. She was waiting for her massive payout. Her face violently turned bright beet red when Mr. Sterling looked up from the papers and calmly said, “That is all.”

Brenda panicked. She aggressively stood up and demanded to know about the massive life insurance money.

Mr. Sterling calmly pulled out the secondary legal papers and coldly stated that the massive life insurance payout completely belonged to the legal structure of the trust fund. Which legally meant that absolutely every single penny of it goes directly to us. Me and my sister.

Brenda absolutely lost her mind. She started violently yelling at the lawyer at the top of her lungs. She aggressively screamed that I had maliciously bribed the lawyer to illegally change the will behind her back.

Mr. Sterling maintained his icy professional composure. He firmly tried to make her legally understand that as a sworn attorney, he absolutely could not manipulate his client’s dying wishes under penalty of disbarment. But Brenda and her daughter Chloe aggressively continued to hurl wild allegations and insults at us.

They only finally stopped screaming when Mr. Sterling slammed his hands on the desk and aggressively threatened to formally sue them both into bankruptcy for actively damaging his professional legal reputation.

The attorney then turned his back on them, warmly congratulated Emily and me, and softly said that Dad had left a highly special, handwritten letter completely for us.

He handed me the sealed envelope. It read my name and my sister’s name on the front in Dad’s shaky handwriting. I opened it and read it aloud to the quiet room:

“My dearest children. I am so incredibly proud to see you both absolutely flourishing in your bright careers. I am so profoundly sorry to have ruined your beautiful childhood. I hastily remarried in a desperate attempt to bring you a new mother, but it turned out completely, violently against you all. I aggressively curse myself every single day for making that terrible decision. It completely killed me from the inside when you both felt you had to leave the house. I deeply knew it was entirely because of my own blind negligence. I could never completely forgive myself for that failure. I always desperately wanted to confront this massive failure in person with you, but I absolutely never had the courage or the guts to bring up the painful topic. But thank you from the bottom of my soul for completely forgiving me and gracefully making me a part of your beautiful adult life. The days I spent with your beautiful mother, and the glorious days I got to spend with both of you now in the city, are the absolute happiest days of my entire life. Thank you. Dad loves you, always and forever.”

It was so incredibly, profoundly moving. Emily and I both violently hugged each other in the office and sobbed uncontrollably.

Brenda’s face turned completely, sickly pale with absolute embarrassment and humiliation. Her own husband had completely exposed his deep regret for marrying her in a legal document in front of an attorney.

Her daughter, Chloe, violently stormed out of the mahogany cabin, aggressively screaming that it was far too much pathetic drama for her to handle.

When Emily and I finally gathered our things and came out to the waiting room, they were still standing outside near the elevators. Brenda was completely silent and heavily sobbing into her hands. I don’t know exactly why.

Maybe because of the grief of losing her husband, but more likely because of the absolute shock of suddenly losing absolutely everything she thought she was entitled to.

Her daughter violently charged at us like a wild animal. She screamed that we had maliciously, illegally manipulated Dad to will us absolutely everything. She screamed that we absolutely didn’t care for him in his entire life, and during his last vulnerable days, we purposefully dragged him to our city apartment and violently forced him to write that fake will.

Emily aggressively stepped forward and desperately wanted to punch her squarely in her screaming face, but I firmly grabbed her arm and stopped her. We were better than this trash.

The lawyer kindly asked Emily and me to stay back in the city for a few extra days for the remaining complex paperwork to be legally completed for the massive trust fund transfer.

We checked into a beautiful, upscale hotel downtown that evening to celebrate Dad’s memory and process our massive shock.

Later that night, as it began to rain heavily outside, I got a highly unexpected, surprise visitor violently knocking at my hotel room door.

I opened the door, and it was Brenda.

She was standing in the dimly lit hotel hallway, heavily crying, with black mascara running completely down her face. On seeing me open the door, she desperately lunged forward and aggressively hugged me. I stood perfectly rigid, my arms frozen at my sides.

She sobbed wildly and desperately claimed she was so deeply moved by Dad’s beautiful letter. She cried and said she was so incredibly sorry for her terrible behavior over the last fifteen years. She aggressively claimed she absolutely didn’t even realize that she was actively inflicting such horrific pain on us and on Dad.

I was completely, utterly shocked at this pathetic performance. I absolutely didn’t know how to react to such insane audacity. I just stood there in the doorway, staring at her, listening to her completely unhinged rambling.

I coldly told her that while I might have eventually been able to forgive the horrific childhood trauma she put us through, what she had maliciously done at the funeral was something entirely beyond the realm of human apology. She actively, purposely didn’t let us see our own Dad’s face for the absolute last time on this earth. We can absolutely, fundamentally never forgive her for that pure evil.

She again started violently crying and desperately begging, saying she was so sorry.

I coldly told her it absolutely doesn’t matter now. Dad was permanently gone, and her fake, pathetic “sorry” was absolutely not going to magically bring him back from the grave.

I stared dead into her eyes and aggressively asked her exactly what she really wanted from me.

She sniffled, looked down at her expensive shoes, and pathetically said that Dad had not left her absolutely anything to survive on. She whined about how she was supposedly expected to live her lavish life without any cash.

I completely sniffed out her disgusting intentions immediately. I tilted my head and mockingly asked her if there was absolutely anything I could possibly do about it.

She immediately looked up, her eyes wide with desperate greed. She aggressively requested that I voluntarily give away a massive chunk of money from our million dollar trust fund to strictly secure her comfortable future.

I aggressively laughed from the deep inside of my soul, but I brilliantly kept a completely straight face and perfectly pretended to deeply care for her plight.

I asked her, in a completely serious tone, exactly how much money she was aggressively expecting me to hand over to her.

She stood up slightly straighter, wiped her fake tears, and incredibly stated that being Dad’s loyal wife, she absolutely should at least get exactly half of the million dollars. But, she added with a fake, humble sigh, she deeply respects Dad’s decision, so she would generously be willing to settle for a mere 30%.

Thirty percent. Of a million dollars. After banning us from his funeral.

I absolutely couldn’t control myself for a single second longer.

I violently burst into hysterical, booming laughter right directly in her face. I laughed so hard my ribs physically ached.

She was such a completely, utterly delusional woman. After actively making our childhood a living, breathing hell for fifteen years, she actually had the sheer, unadulterated guts to stand at my hotel room door and tell me that she could graciously “settle” with taking three hundred thousand dollars of my money.

She immediately got violently angry at my mad, hysterical laughing. Her face contorted into pure rage.

I quickly pulled out my phone and called my sister, Emily, who was staying right in the adjacent room of the hotel. Emily opened her door and peeked out into the hallway.

I aggressively mimicked Brenda’s pathetic, whining voice, loudly announcing Brenda’s insane demands about the 30% cut to my sister. At first, Emily didn’t fully understand the reference, but then she looked over and saw Brenda’s bright red, furious, funny face standing in the hallway.

Emily immediately burst into aggressive, hysterical laughter right alongside me. The two of us stood in the doorway, pointing and laughing directly in the face of the evil woman who had tormented us for a decade and a half.

Brenda violently stormed away down the carpeted hallway, aggressively screaming and cursing at us at the top of her lungs, slamming her fists against the elevator button.

I went into Emily’s room, and I told my sister the full details of how Brenda was pathetically pleading and begging with me for that trust fund money. We poured two glasses of wine and had an incredibly good, long, cathartic laugh at her absolute stupidity and sheer audacity.

Later that night, we sat together on the balcony overlooking the Chicago skyline. We read Dad’s beautiful letter at least one hundred times, and we cried together. It was such a beautiful, healing moment with my sister. We are absolutely going to frame that letter and permanently preserve it as our most prized souvenir.

I deeply hope Dad’s beautiful soul finally finds peace in heaven, and I hope he happily meets Mom there. We absolutely never, ever thought that Dad would secretly give us his everything at the end.

That is the beautiful thing about real parents. They love us incredibly unconditionally. Even if they don’t always know how to say it out loud or show it, they always, always have our back in the end.