My grandma passed away 3 years ago – Page 6

Grandma stands there—whole, strong, as she once was. Not fragile. Not fading. Her dress floats just above the floor.

Dad turns.

His face drains white.

“Mom…?”

She doesn’t speak.

The house does.

The air thickens. The walls groan.
Dad drops to his knees.

“I’m sorry,” he sobs. “I thought I deserved it—I wanted what was mine—”

Grandma raises her hand.

The floor cracks.

“You were never owed what you abandoned,” I say.

She looks at me.

FOR ILLUSTRATIVE PURPOSE ONLY
She smiles.

And the house lets go.

Dad doesn’t return for three days.

When he does, he comes alone. No demands. No entitlement. Just shaking hands and lowered eyes.

“I was wrong,” he whispers. “About everything.”

“I don’t want the house,” he adds quickly. “I just… want a chance.”

I step aside.

Continue reading…