I expected my father’s funeral to be a day of quiet mourning, a time to honour the man who was the backbone of our family.
However, I couldn’t foresee how my stepmother would turn it into a show until a letter from my father revealed secrets that humiliated her and her children in front of everyone.
The morning was already one of the hardest mornings of my life.
I could barely handle myself, knowing that I was going to have to say goodbye to the man who had always been my rock.
He had been ill for a long time, and even though we all knew this day was inevitable, I was not prepared for the overwhelming grief that engulfed me that day.
And then they came in.
Vivian, my stepmother, walked in as if she were going to a society gala, followed by her four adult children, dressed head to toe in dazzling white – as if they had mistaken a funeral for a yacht party.
The contrast was shocking.
Everyone else was in mourning black, their heads lowered in grief, and they walked in like honoured guests, completely indifferent to the gravity of the moment.
Anger seized me, and I made my way through the crowd towards them.
‘Vivian,’ I hissed through clenched teeth, trying to speak softly but sharply enough to cut through the hum around us.
‘What the hell are you doing? Why are you so…’ – I pointed at their outfits, barely containing my rage. ‘Dressed like that?’
She barely paid attention to my anger and bestowed me with an arrogant, contemptuous smile.
‘Oh, darling,’ she cooed, stretching the words as if I were a child exaggerating. ‘Your father wanted this.’
I was stunned.
‘Wanted this?’ – I repeated, my voice rising despite my attempts to remain calm.
‘There’s no way Dad…’
Vivian interrupted me, slipping her hand into her designer bag and pulling out a neatly folded letter.
‘He wrote me a letter,’ she said and held it up like it was a golden ticket.
‘He told me, ‘Vivian, you and the children must wear white.’ This is my last wish.’’
I stared at the letter, seized with disbelief and confusion.
‘No,’ I whispered.
‘It can’t be true.’
Vivian’s eyes glittered as she sighed.
‘Oh, but it is. He wanted something special, and we’re just fulfilling his last wish.’
The audacity of the whole situation was too much.
I could feel the stares of the people around me, heard the whispers begin to break out amongst those present.
Before I could respond, she turned away and led her children to the front row as if they were VIP guests at an exclusive event.
The ceremony began, and as much as I tried to focus on honouring my father, the sight of them standing proudly in their bright white outfits kept me awake.
They basked in the attention while I simmered with quiet rage.
Then Joe, my father’s best friend, stepped forward to give a speech.
He had a letter in his hands and his face reflected a storm of emotion.
As he began to read, I noticed the change in Vivian’s facial expression.
What started out as smug confidence quickly turned to confusion.
‘To my dear friends and family,’ Joe began to read.
‘I am grateful for your presence today, but there is something I must say.
During my illness it was my ex-wife Martha who took care of me.
Vivian and her children were nowhere to be found unless they needed something from me.’
There was a sepulchral silence in the hall.
Vivian’s face paled, her self-confidence vanishing as the meaning of her father’s words began to sink in.
Joe continued: ‘I realised that my new family were more interested in what I could give them than in me as a person.
And then I discovered, with the help of my financial adviser, that money was disappearing from my accounts – being stolen by Vivian and her children.’
Astonished exclamations echoed through the hall.
Vivian’s children, who had so arrogantly entered the room, now sat in frozen silence, their faces dead pale.
Vivian, clearly shaken, tried to object.
‘It’s a lie! None of it is true!’ – she exclaimed.
But her voice trembled and it was clear she was losing control.
Joe remained calm as he read the last lines.
‘I knew they would come to my funeral and pretend to grieve.
And that’s why I asked them to come in white – so they’d stand out and everyone could see who they really were.’
The silence that followed was oppressive.
Vivian’s anger boiled over and she began to shout venomous words, but the eyes of everyone in the room were now fixed on her – cold, judgemental, leaving her no escape route.
She had been exposed.
When she realised she had lost, Vivian stormed out of the hall, her children following her, humiliated.
The door slammed shut behind them with a loud bang, leaving a heavy silence behind them.
When they were gone, Joe folded the letter and looked at those gathered.
‘Now,’ he said softly, ’let us remember the man who truly deserves our honour today.’
And with that, the ceremony continued.
We told stories, laughed and cried as we remembered the life of the man who brought us all together.
My father, even in death, had the last word.
He exposed their lies and made sure the truth came out.
As I listened to Joe tell a funny story about my father, I couldn’t hold back a smile.
My father always knew how to pick the right moment.
