At my grandmother’s funeral, I noticed my mother discreetly placing something inside the coffin. It was a strange moment that left me wondering what she had hidden and why.

At my grandmother Katarzyna’s funeral, I felt like I was walking in darkness, unable to find my way. She was not just family; she was my best friend, my entire world. Her hugs always made me feel safe, cherished, and loved. But now, as I stood near her coffin, I felt as though I was breathing with only half of the air.

Last week, I stood by her coffin, overwhelmed with memories. Just a month ago, we sat together in her kitchen, drinking tea and laughing as she shared her secret cookie recipe. «Emerald, my dear, now she watches you from the sky,» our neighbor, Mrs. Anderson, said, her voice thick with emotion.

But then, I noticed my mother approaching the coffin. I watched her carefully, and with a swift movement, she placed something in the coffin. It was a small object, wrapped in cloth. When she stood up and glanced around, she silently left the room.

Something didn’t sit right. My grandmother and mother hadn’t spoken in years, and my grandmother would never have allowed anyone to place something in her coffin without my permission.

As the funeral home emptied and darkness crept over the windows, I approached the coffin. Under the folds of her favorite dress, I found the object my mother had placed there. Trembling, I unwrapped it to find letters—letters not meant for my grandmother. They revealed a hidden side of my mother, filled with emotions and experiences she never shared.

But I couldn’t ignore the feeling of guilt. My grandmother would never have wanted me to invade these secrets. So, I carefully put the letters back, whispering to her, “Sorry, Grandma, some secrets must stay where they belong.”

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