When my dad died, the day of the funeral was meant to be a solemn honor, but my stepmother Vivian and her four grown children had other ideas. Their stark white clothes made them stand out, drawing attention away from the weeping.
It was shocking how bold they were. Vivian showed a letter as proof that my dad had asked them to wear white. I knew better, though.
Joe, my dad’s best friend, took the stage at the start of the event and showed off a second letter. This one showed what Vivian and her kids were really like.
Vivian and her kids only cared about his money, not his health, according to what my dad said. They had even stolen money from his bank accounts.
People in the room gasped in shock. Vivian’s mask fell off, showing a furious face. “Vivian, you and your kids are not welcome here,” Joe said in a firm voice. Leave my friend’s family and friends alone so they can grieve in peace.
Vivian was crushed by the weight of criticism. Her kids shook, and their pride was broken. With one last angry look, Vivian stormed out the door with her kids following behind.
The room let out a combined sigh. When Joe folded the letter, he looked sad. “Let’s honor the man who deserves our respect.”
The service went on, and those who truly loved my dad celebrated his life with me. Vivian and her kids got what was coming to them: an embarrassing exit.
My dad made sure the truth was told even after he died. His knowledge and fairness won out.
While Joe was giving his moving speech, I quietly said, “Dad always knew how to pick his moments.” He left behind a record that shows how honest he was.
