Vivian rose confidently, a smug smile on her face, as her children followed. Joe took a deep breath and began to read.
“To my dearest friends and family,” he started, his voice shaky. “Thank you for coming to honor my memory. There is something I must address.”
The room went silent. I glanced at Vivian, her smile faltering slightly.
“My ex-wife, Martha, was the one who stood by me through my illness,” Joe read. “She was there when I needed her most, while Vivian and her children were absent—unless they needed something from me.”
A ripple of shock passed through the crowd. Vivian’s face drained of color.
Joe continued, his voice firm. “I also discovered, with help from my financial adviser, that substantial sums had been taken from my accounts. The culprit was Vivian, assisted by her children.”
Gasps echoed through the room. Vivian’s children, who had been standing proudly, now shrank back, their faces pale.
Vivian tried to protest. “This is a lie! You can’t believe this!”
Joe ignored her. “I knew they would show up to my funeral expecting to play the grieving family. So, I asked them to wear white. I wanted them to stand out, so everyone could see them for who they truly are.”
The words landed like a punch. Vivian’s composure cracked. “You bastard!” she hissed. “You think you can humiliate me like this? You’ll regret it!”
But her outburst only made her humiliation worse. The crowd stood in stunned silence, their judgment clear. Joe lowered the letter and looked her directly in the eyes. “Vivian, you and your children are no longer welcome here. Leave now and let us mourn in peace.”
For a moment, Vivian stood frozen, her wild eyes searching for support. But none came. The weight of the crowd’s judgment pressed on her, and she seemed to lose her fight. She grabbed her purse and snapped at her children to follow her. They left the church, heads down, the door slamming behind them.
Joe folded the letter carefully and addressed the crowd. “Now,” he said quietly, “let us honor the man who truly deserves to be remembered today.”
The rest of the ceremony proceeded without incident. We shared stories of my father, laughed, cried, and celebrated the man who had touched all our lives. As I listened to Joe recount one of my dad’s funny anecdotes, I couldn’t help but smile. Even in death, my father had made sure the truth was revealed and justice served.
My dad always knew how to make a statement. And this one, we would never forget.