My Stepmom Changed the Locks After My Dad Passed to Keep Me Out – She Didn’t Know My Dad Had Prepared for This Scenario

I stood in the cemetery, watching as they lowered my father’s casket into the ground. The finality of it sank right through me and took something with it. My dad, Mark, was my rock and my everything since Mom died. He was gone, just like that. A stroke at 58. No warning. No goodbye.

Advertisement
Men carrying a coffin in a cemetery | Source: Pexels
Men carrying a coffin in a cemetery | Source: Pexels

“We should get back to the house,” my stepmom, Carla, said, her voice flat as she adjusted her designer sunglasses. Not a tear had stained her perfectly applied makeup. “People will be arriving soon.”

Advertisement
I nodded numbly. At 25, I thought I was an adult. Thought I was ready for anything. But I wasn’t ready for this. Back at my childhood home, I wandered from room to room while Carla managed the stream of visitors.

Every corner held memories — Dad teaching me to ride a bike when I was seven. The Christmas when he bought me a telescope. The kitchen table where we solved math problems and shared ice cream after Mom died.

A father teaching his little daughter to ride a bike | Source: Pexels
A father teaching his little daughter to ride a bike | Source: Pexels

“He wouldn’t want all this moping,” Carla said, suddenly beside me as I stood in Dad’s study, touching the spines of his books. “Life goes on, Olivia.”

Advertisement
I looked at her, all pearls, white designer dress, and not a single hair out of place. “It’s been three hours since we buried him.”

“So…?”

Continue reading…