So, being back in my dad’s house after he passed was beyond weird. It was still the same place where I grew up, filled with all these warm memories. But now, it felt empty and cold.
I was flipping through some old photo albums, feeling all nostalgic, when I suddenly heard a noise coming from the backyard. My first thought? It’s gotta be the neighbor stealing mangoes again. My dad used to always complain about her. So, I headed outside, ready to catch her in the act, but there was no one there.
I shrugged it off, thinking I must be hearing things. Just when I was about to relax, I heard an even louder noise coming from the garage. Great.
I grabbed the nearest rake and headed over to the garage. The door was slightly open, so I shouted, “Hey, whoever’s in there, I’m warning you! Trespassing is a crime, and you better show yourself before things get ugly!”
Silence.
But then, through the crack in the door, I saw something move. A shadow.
Without thinking, I swung the door open wide and—bam! I heard a scream.
I jumped back, heart pounding, and realized the scream came from a young woman. She was crouched near an old workbench, her eyes wide with fear.
“What the hell?” I exclaimed, lowering the rake. “Who are you, and what are you doing in my dad’s garage?”
The woman stood up slowly, hands raised in surrender. “I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you. My name’s Sarah. I used to know your dad. He… he let me stay here sometimes when I had nowhere else to go.”
I was stunned. “What do you mean, he let you stay here? Why didn’t he ever mention you?”
Sarah looked down, her face full of sadness. “He probably didn’t want to worry you. Your dad was a kind man. He helped a lot of people in ways you might not know.”
I felt a pang of guilt for my earlier anger. “Look, I’m sorry for scaring you. It’s just… it’s been a rough time, losing him and all.”
She nodded, her eyes softening. “I understand. I didn’t mean to intrude. I just came by to collect some things I left here. I didn’t know he had passed.”
We stood there in awkward silence for a moment. Then, feeling a strange sense of connection to this stranger who seemed to know a side of my dad I never knew, I asked, “Do you want to come in? We can talk more inside. Maybe you can tell me more about how you knew him.”
Sarah’s face lit up with gratitude. “I’d like that.”
As we walked back into the house, I realized that even though my dad was gone, he still had ways of surprising me. We sat down at the kitchen table, and Sarah began to share stories of how my dad had helped her and others in the neighborhood, always without expecting anything in return.
Listening to her, I felt a new kind of warmth fill the house. It wasn’t the same as when Dad was alive, but it was a comfort to know that his kindness had left a lasting impact on so many people. And in that moment, I felt a little less alone.
