To reveal an elderly man with kind eyes and a gentle smile.
He introduced himself as Mr. Thompson, a long-time friend and confidant of my father.
“Ah, Frank,” he greeted warmly, “your father told me you’d come.”
Surprised, I asked, “How did my father know I’d come here?”
Mr. Thompson chuckled softly, “Your father was a wise man, always prepared for the unexpected. He knew his passing would bring about changes, and he cared deeply for you, even if it wasn’t always evident.”
He invited me inside, and the modest house was a stark contrast to the life my father and my brother-in-law led. It was simple but cozy, filled with memorabilia and photographs of my father during different stages of his life. The atmosphere felt familiar and comforting.
Over a pot of freshly brewed tea, Mr. Thompson revealed the purpose of my visit. “Your father left something for you here,” he said, gesturing to a well-worn leather briefcase on the table. “He wanted you to have it when he was gone.”
