The wife handed him the sealed envelope and stood aside.
The small crowd at the funeral stood in pin drop silence when the son read out the man’s last will and testament.
It was just one sheet and the took just a few minutes to read out. It said:
My son says that I don’t love him.
That’s why I went to great lengths to search and adopt him when he was but a baby in a cradle, abandoned by a mother who didn’t want him.
My son says that I don’t love him.
That’s why I brought him home by 1st class air when I had but travelled by 2nd class sleeper train till then.
My son says that I don’t love him.
That’s why I took him to the best doctors to ensure he received the attention he needed so that he would be a healthy man when he grew up.
My son says that I don’t love him.
That’s why I spent every weekend at the park with him till he was six and only wanted his friends.
My son says that I don’t love him.
That’s why I bought him nice gifts every birthday and had all his friends to sing when he cut the cake, till he ran away from home.
My son says that I don’t love him.
That’s why I admitted him to the best schools in town and dropped and picked him up, every single day.
My son says that I don’t love him.
That’s why I bought him any toy he wanted, though they never lasted more than a few days.
My son says that I don’t love him.
That’s why I only admonished him softly when he kept stealing from my purse.
My son says that I don’t love him.
That’s why I brought him to a hospital and had the best surgeons fix his broken bones when his car hit a train and smashed it to smithereens.
My son says that I don’t love him.
That’s why I picked him up from the local bar when he was lying on the footpath and had him sober up in comfort.
My son says that I don’t love him.
That’s why I picked him up from the smashed car when he hit a pole and nearly dies and took him to the hospital.
My son says that I don’t love him.
That’s why I paid up for the half-way-home when he had to sober up again and again.
My son says that I don’t love him.
That’s why I took him in when he ran away time and again only to show up torn and tattered at the gate in the wee hours of the morning.
My son says that I don’t love him.
That’s why I set him up in furnished accommodation, even though he’d lose it all again and again.
My son says that I don’t love him.
That’s why I made excuses for him and protect his name when he was the only no-show at my 60th birthday party.
My son says that I don’t love him.
That’s why I paid up the credit cards when they came looking for him at my house when he was nowhere to be found.
My son says that I don’t love him.
That’s why I lie to my friends when they ask me about him. He has a life to live while mine is but over.
My son says that I don’t love him.
That’s why I suffer in silence when I don’t know what’s happening to him or where he is.
My son says that I don’t love him.
That’s why when I die, I’ll ask God to teach me how to be a good dad.
– Author unknown.