They say that no matter how close we are to people, we can never know everything about them. I had thought that I knew my aunt Heather very well. I had known her all of my life and I had only seen a very loving, kind woman. Even though we lived far apart, whenever we'd talk on the phone or see each other during vacations or at family events, she seemed to be nothing but a decent, loving woman.
Five years ago when my Mother passed away, Aunt Heather came for the funeral. She held me and comforted me as I sobbed in her arms when we went to see my Mother at the viewing at the funeral home. Heather was a great comfort and support to me during that time.
Four years after I lost my Mother, my Father passed away. Heather and her daughter and son-in-law asked if they could come to see me. I didn't hesitate to say yes. During the three days that they stayed, Heather was very concerned about me and kept a close eye on me to make sure I was alright. She was worried about leaving me alone, my Father and I had had a very close, loving relationship. I really was my Daddy's little girl my whole life. He adored me and I adored him. Heather and her family went home and I got busy with the business of tying up the loose ends of my Father's life, handling his estate and taking care of everything else that had to be done.
My Father had a small estate and I was his only child. He had made me the executor of his estate and he had left everything in it to me. I had seen many situations where relatives had become vultures after a loved one had passed away and I wanted to avoid that terrible headache so I immediately put all of my cards on the table and told all of my relatives, Heather and her family included, that I was the executor of my Father's estate and that I had been left all of the assets that he had. He hadn't left any of them any money or property. I thought that this was the best way to handle things, to be straightforward and honest from the beginning so there would be no fighting or sniping about what was in his will. Everyone seemed to be fine with it until one day when I got a letter in the mail.
The letter came a few months after my Father's passing and there was no return address on it. I wondered who it could be from. As I started to read it, I could taste the bile rising in my throat and everything went white. It was from my beloved Aunty Heather. I have had nasty things said to me through the years but in all of my life, I have to say that this letter was the cruelest, most cutting, most hurtful, viscous thing I had ever read. When she had found out that she wasn't getting any money from the will, my Aunt's true character came raging out and gave me the full force of it's fury. She ripped me up one side and down the other. I was shaking when I finished reading the letter. In all of the years I had known this woman, I never, ever would have dreamed that she was capable of such hate and extreme cruelty. It was clear from the letter that she truly didn't love either me or my Father, she said nasty things about him as well and as I sat dumbfounded on the bed, I remembered how loving and kind and supportive she had been after the death of each of my parents. I knew now that it was all an act. A person who loved my parents and I could never write such a poisoned pen letter to me. She was a very, very, very good actress. She could have beaten Halle Berry and Charlize Theron out of the best actress Oscars, she was that good. She truly missed her calling by not going into acting.
In a few days, after I had calmed down , I knew that I couldn't let Heather get away with this. At the end of her letter, she had told me that she "would never darken my door again". As if I would allow someone who had made a fool of me and disrespected me and my Father in such a terrible, cruel way in my home ever again. Not only was she mean but she was crazy if she thought she'd ever be welcome in here again.
I promptly wrote her a letter telling her that what she was not welcome in my home ever again, and that she was not to write me or call me ever again. I told her that what she had written me in her letter was deplorable and unforgivable. It was over between us and I would never change my mind. I sent the letter and haven't heard from her since.
It's too bad that we sometimes have to learn these painful lessons about the people that we love after we suffer the death of a loved one, but I have to say I am glad it happened the way it did. If it hadn't, I never would have discovered my Aunt's true character. Death is a great teacher. Not only does it teach us very important lessons about how precious life is, it also shows shows us who the people are who really love us and have our best interests at heart. For those lessons, I am truly thankful.
