When my Dad died, I was shocked to hear that the beneficiary had been changed on his life insurance policy. When my aunt helped him fill out this paperwork, he had her put my Grandmother, my younger sister, and myself, his oldest daughter. Yet, sometime after my Grandmother’s death and my father’s heart attack and angioplasty, someone had our names removed which was replaced by the girlfriend who couldn’t even be bothered when my Dad had his heart-attack resulting in his heart surgery at Wake Forest in North Carolina. Daddy was depressed for a while, but the doctors said it came along with the surgery. My father ended up moving in with my aunt who helped get him back on his feet.

That is the backstory…

Now, many might say that I am just sore over the money, but it has nothing to do with the money that would have been split between my sister and me after paying for my Daddy’s funeral costs. My father was a simple man. He didn’t own any land or other great wealth. He had his insurance policy through his workplace and a 401K.

“I will carry these words with me always, for they are far more precious than any dirty money.”

When my aunt woke me up the morning my family arrived after making the 12-hour drive from Georgia to Virginia, I could tell it was not good news. My sister and I were not the beneficiaries, which meant I had to get ahold of the woman and hope she was going to do the right thing and pay for my father to be buried. We were all on pins and needles hoping she would respect my Daddy that much.

It wasn’t long that my aunt heard from the funeral home saying the lady signed the paperwork necessary to bury my Daddy as planned. I could breathe a sigh of relief knowing the plans were to go ahead. This was one thing off my raw mind. She couldn’t bring herself to speak to any of us, staying in the back of the funeral home. She didn’t even stay for the service.

There are times, though, that when I think of this, I find myself angry. Angry, because my Daddy took care of this woman and her children for years. I would give anything to have had the time with my Daddy that they all have had. Feeling shunted to the side when I visited as she pushed me out of pictures. Making sure her family didn’t get left out. I never said one word. I never disrespected her or her children. Hoping to keep the peace, especially if she made my Dad happy, but now I wonder if she was using my Dad. Much good it will do now.

Sometimes I wonder if she couldn’t look any of us in the eyes because she felt guilty about something. We all know she left my Dad when he needed her most. I will never be able to prove her forgery, but at least I know that she can’t take advantage of him anymore.

If I knew without a doubt that this is what my Dad wanted, I could let it go, but Daddy even told me how his policy was set up once over the phone. Out of the 401K money, we bought Daddy’s headstone. It was the toughest purchase of my life! I never thought in million years that this could even happen. Even six months later, I still break down crying wishing he was here to see his great granddaughter. I miss our little chats. They made my day. He was so proud of my accomplishments in my schooling and writing.

He told me a week before he passed that he was proud of me. It was the release week of my first short story that was included in an anthology with other talented authors. I will carry these words with me always, for they are far more precious than any dirty money.