At My Grandma’s Funeral, I Saw My Mom Hide Something in the Coffin—What I Found Shocked Me

“I tried making one last week,” I said, voice catching. “It changed differently. I took up the phone to ask her what I had done wrong, and then the heart attack happened; the ambulance showed up and—”

Oh, honey. Mrs. Anderson drew me tightly in an embrace. “She understood your great love for her.” What counts is that. And consider all of these individuals here; she affected countless lives. The funeral house was packed, with neighbors and friends whispering stories in low tones. My mother Victoria was standing off to the side staring at her phone. All day she had not shed a tear.

I watched my mother approach the casket as Mrs. Anderson and I were speaking. She looked about warily then leaned over it, her manicured fingers sliding something inside. It resembled a little parcel.

Her heels clicked gently on the hardwood floor as she straightened, her gaze darting about the room before she left. “Did you observe that?” I murmured, my heart pounding abruptly.

“See what, sweetheart?,”

“My mum just…,” I stopped, watching my mother vanish into the ladies’ room. ” Nothing.” I suppose just the grief playing games.

But the discomfort rested in my gut like a cold stone. In years, Mom and Grandma had seldom spoken. And my grandma would not have asked for anything to be placed in her casket without my knowing either.

There seemed to be something strange. As the final mourners left the funeral home, evening shadows stretched out across its windows. The air smelled strongly of lilies and flowers, mixed with the residual aroma of departing visitors.