I was at home, when I heard the door bell ring. On opening the door, I found a plump, pale faced woman. Her eyed were red and puffy as if she had been crying the entire night.
"You must be Selena Winter, "she said.
"I'm Susan Robertson. Dehlia Robertson's sister." Mrs. D's sister held out a black envelope.
"Dehlia passed away three days ago due to cancer. As your teacher's sister I know she would want you to come to her funeral, and to the reading of her will."
For a while, I stood there, unable to say anything. Then I noticed the invitation in her hand, and took it saying, "I'm sorry."
Susan Robertson swallowed, nodded her head, and then walked to her car. I watched her as she sped away.
Mrs. D's funeral was a grand affair. The Robertsons were rich, and though Mrs. D worked as a teacher, she had received a huge inheritance. As I walked into the halls of Mrs. D's mansion, I saw so many sad people. This was the first funeral that I had been to, and I did not enjoy the experience. Mrs. D had apparently meant a lot to so many people.
I sat uncomfortably throughout the whole spectacle. Just when I thought I was free to go home, I was called upon for the reading of the will. I had to do so against my will, though I knew the only thing Mrs. D would have left me would be some advice on how to work hard.
Only a few people were present at the reading. This comprised of mostly Mrs. D's family. All eyes turned to me as I walked into the room, and I could hear people starting to whisper.
Mrs. D was richer then I thought. She left her sister a holiday home in the Carribean, a villa in France and a house in new York.
Secretly, I found myself wishing for the typewriter that Mrs. D had shown me so long ago.
Suddenly, I found my name being called.
"To Selena,"I heard the man say, "who is the most talented aspiring writer I have ever met, I leave my monetary wealth, my collection of books and every other asset not previously mentioned, so that she may never stop writing."
I trembled at hearing these words.
"Selena, if you are present as I hope you are, know that I have always believed in you, and always will. Though I have never told you this before, you are one of the few people whose way with words touched me. Never stop working hard. "
That was when I really started to cry. I sobbed covering my face with my hands and ran out of the room taking in deep breaths. I collapsed in the garden among the well tended flower beds. For a while I wondered what so much money could do for me. I would never have to stay up late, never have to worry about anything again. Mrs. D had realized that, and I had never even expressed my gratitude to her.
The sky was cloudless today. Looking up at the endless stretch of blue, I imagined heaven. That was where Mrs. D would be.
"Thank you, " I said to her, "Thank you."