The Dead Dad Who Came Back

On the anniversary of my father's death, Mom and I went to pay our respects.

Mom suddenly wanted to place something inside Dad's urn.

But when the staff member brought out the urn, Mom and I froze instantly.

Because the photo on the urn in front of us wasn't my dad at allit was some stranger.

I demanded an explanation from the staff member, my voice shaking.

"What's going on? Why is there someone else's ashes in my father's plot?"

Mom clutched her chest beside me, her heart condition nearly flaring up from the shock.

"We've been paying our respects to the wrong ashes for twelve years? Then where are my husband's ashes?"

The staff member had never encountered this situation before.

He quickly checked the system, then looked at us with confusion.

"Are you sure you came to the right cemetery? I just checkedwe don't have any deceased person with the surname Thompson in our records."

"Impossible!"

My tone was firm.

"When my father died, I personally placed his urn in this plot. I couldn't have made a mistake!"

Mom chimed in to support me.

"That's right. We still have the purchase contract for this plot at home. How could your cemetery not have any records of a Thompson?"

Seeing how certain we were, the staff member logged into the system again to check.

But the result was the same as before.

No records of anyone named Thompson.

At that moment, the manager rushed over after hearing about the commotion.

He bowed repeatedly to Mom and me in apology.

"I'm so sorry, this is all a misunderstanding. Last year we expanded the cemetery, and to avoid disturbing the deceased, we temporarily moved all the urns to the funeral home. The staff must have been careless and mixed up the ashes. We'll fix this immediately. Please, come wait in our office."

"Mixed up?"

My eyes widened, anger creeping into my voice.

"Why didn't you notify the families before moving the ashes during your expansion? If Mom hadn't wanted to see Dad today, would we have ever found out?"

"This is entirely our mistake, entirely our mistake!"

The manager wiped the cold sweat from his forehead.

"I completely understand your feelings, but right now the priority is finding your father's ashes. Please just wait a moment."

I wanted to argue with him further, but Mom, still clutching her chest, stopped me.

"Forget it, Evelyn. Take me somewhere to sit down and let them find your father's ashes first. We can't miss the time to leave flowers for him."

Looking at Mom's haggard face, I could only swallow my anger for now.

"Fine. Find my father's ashes first. After we've paid our respects, we'll discuss how to handle this."

With that, I led Mom to their office.

The manager nodded vigorously behind us.

"Yes, Ms. Thompson, don't worry. We'll notify you the moment we find them."

In the office, I poured Mom a glass of water to help calm her down.

Ever since Dad's company went bankrupt twelve years ago and he jumped to his death, Mom had developed a heart condition.

Over these years, she'd had to care for Grandpa and Grandma while supporting me through high school, with no time to see a doctor.

On top of that, she'd been paying off the debts Dad left behind from the bankruptcy.

Life had been incredibly hard.

Fortunately, I'd succeeded in starting my own business.

Not only had I paid off all of Dad's debts, but I'd also saved quite a bit of money.

I'd originally planned to take Mom to get proper treatment for her heart after paying our respects to Dad.

I never expected something like this to happen.

Thinking of this, I asked Mom.

"Mom, what were you planning to put in Dad's urn?"

Mom's expression softened a bit as she pulled a bead from her bag.

" A couple days ago I went to the chapel and got this blessed rosary bead for your father. The priest said if I put it in the urn, it would help him have a better time in heaven "

Mom's superstition made me want to laugh and cry at the same time, and my tense mood relaxed slightly.

Just then, a staff member came to get us.

"Ms. Thompson, we've found your father's ashes."

Mom and I exchanged glances and immediately got up to return to the plot.

The manager handed me Dad's urn with an apologetic expression.

"Ms. Thompson, you were rightit was mixed up. It was mistakenly placed in the plot next to yours. Now that we've found it, please confirm it's correct and we'll put it back right away."

I took the urn and glanced at it.

The photo on top was indeed my father.

Seeing Dad's portrait again, I couldn't help but tear up.

Mom quietly wiped away tears beside me.

"If everything's correct, I'll put it back now. The urn shouldn't be exposed to sunlightit's bad luck."

I quickly handed the urn back to the manager.

"It's fine. Go ahead and put it back."

"Wait."

Mom suddenly spoke up, pulling the bead from her bag.

"Let me put this inside first."

Before the manager could respond, Mom opened the lid of the urn, preparing to place the bead inside.

But the moment she opened the lid, her expression darkened.

"You're saying these are my husband's ashes?"

"Yes, isn't that Mr. Thompson's photo on the urn?"

Mom put the bead back in her bag and stepped backward.

"These aren't my husband's ashes at all! When he was cremated, I placed our wedding rings in his urn. There's nothing like that in here! Where did you hide my husband's ashes?"

I stepped forward and looked into the urn.

There were indeed no rings inside!

"Where are my father's ashes? What kind of cemetery is this? Did you lose my father's ashes and just randomly grab someone else's to cover it up?"

The manager's face had already gone pale when he heard Mom's words.

Now he stammered, unable to get a word out.

Other people who'd come to visit their loved ones noticed the commotion and gathered around us.

"Your cemetery can't even protect the deceased's ashes properly? How can we trust leaving our loved ones here?"

"What if something happened to our relatives' ashes too? I demand to inspect mine!"

"Exactly! You need to give us an explanation. Paying respects to a complete strangerthat's disgusting!"

Seeing him remain silent, I'd had enough.

I pulled out my phone.

"Since you can't give me a reasonable explanation, you can explain it to the police instead!"

I was about to call the police.

Seeing me reach for my phone, the manager finally broke his silence and pressed down on my hand.

"Don't call the police. Let's talk this through."

"Talk it through?"

I glared at him.

"My father's ashes are still missing and you won't explain what happened. What is there to talk about?"

Mom joined in loudly.

"Exactly! You're running a shady cemetery! My husband has been buried here for twelve yearswho knows when you switched him out for someone else! We have to call the police!"

The crowd's emotions were equally heated.

"That's right! Call the police! You have to call the police!"

Under the enormous pressure, the manager finally cracked.

He raised his hand and shouted.

"Your loved ones' ashes are all fine!"

Then he turned to look at me, forcing out a sentence with difficulty.

"Your father's ashes aren't missing because we lost them. Someone else claimed them!"

As his words fell, the surroundings instantly went quiet.

The onlookers who'd been making a fuss all turned to stare at me in unison.

I froze, instinctively asking.

"What do you mean? What do you mean someone else claimed them? Besides us, who else would my father give his ashes to?"

Mom became agitated too.

"What's going on? How could you hand over my husband's ashes to just anyone?"

After revealing this truth, the manager explained what had really happened back then.

Apparently, before my father's company went bankrupt and before he jumped to his death, he'd left behind a suicide note.

In the note, he'd left all his remaining assets to a woman named Madison.

He'd specifically instructed the manager to give his ashes to that woman as well, and to make absolutely sure we never found out.

So at the time, the manager found an unclaimed body and pretended those were Dad's cremated ashes.

For twelve years, we'd been paying our respects to a complete stranger's ashes.

Dad's real ashes had been taken out shortly after we placed them in the plot, and handed over to that woman.

During last year's cemetery expansion, a staff member noticed the photo on the urn was wrong and switched it back.

And because of that, we discovered today the truth that had been hidden for twelve years.

"I only got paid twenty thousand dollars for this. That amount of money isn't worth going to jail for! I've told you the truth nowplease don't keep threatening to call the police."

After hearing the manager's explanation, I clenched my fists and asked through gritted teeth.

"So where are my father's ashes now?"

The manager gave me an address.

"Last time I mailed her your father's suicide note, I used this address. You can try looking there."

On the way to that address, Mom sat in the passenger seat with an unusually calm expression.

"Evelyn, why do you think your father left his ashes to that woman?"

I already had an unpleasant suspicion forming, but I tried to comfort Mom gently.

"Mom, don't overthink it. Maybe Dad had some reason he couldn't explain. We'll know when we get there."

Mom didn't respond to me.

She just stared out the window in silence.

I drove quietly too, flooring the gas pedal, wanting to reach our destination as quickly as possible.

When we arrived at the address, we found ourselves in front of a lakeside villa.

It looked quite expensive.

I walked to Mom's side, supporting her slightly trembling hand.

After exchanging a glance with her, I rang the doorbell.

The person who opened the door was a young woman.

The moment she saw Mom, she froze.

Then, coming to her senses, she turned to close the door.

I quickly blocked the door with my hand and stepped forward, forcing the woman back into the house.

Seeing my aggressive stance, the woman spoke guiltily.

"Who are you? Why are you barging into my house? I'll call the police if you keep this up."

"You must be Madison, right?"

I cut straight to the point.

"You claimed my father's ashes? Where are they now?"

The woman's eyes instantly filled with panic, but she kept deflecting.

"What ashes? I don't know what you're talking about. You've got the wrong person."

"Whether we have the wrong person or not, you know best."

Mom suddenly spoke up from behind me.

"I've seen you before. You were a new intern at Thompson Industries. Your name is Madison Clarke, isn't it?"

Seeing that Mom had recognized her, Madison stopped pretending and admitted her identity directly.

"Yes, I'm Madison Clarke. Your husband's ashes are with me, but this was his own dying wish. He wanted to leave his ashes with me. You have no right to take them."

"We have no right?"

Mom let out a bitter laugh.

"I'm his wife. This is his only daughter. How do we not have the right to claim his ashes?"

"But I'm the one he loved!"

Madison raised her voice and shouted.

"He stopped loving you, you old hag, a long time ago! He didn't want you paying respects to his ashes at all!"

As her words fell, the smile froze on Mom's face.

In that moment, something shattered in her eyes.

Madison grew more confident as she continued.

"You don't even know, do you? We were together for a long time. He wanted to divorce you. If his parents hadn't absolutely refused, I would be his wife right now, not you."

"Shut your mouth!"

I cut her off sharply.

"What you're saying has no evidence! Who knows if you're just making things up?"

"You want evidence? Fine, I'll show you!"

Madison went to a drawer, pulled out an envelope, and slammed it down in front of me.

"This is a suicide note your father wrote himself. See for yourself!"

I was about to reach for it, but Mom stopped me.

She extended her own handsrough and worn from years of hard worktrembling as she picked up the envelope and slowly opened it.

Inside was Dad's familiar handwriting.

The contents were simple, just a few short sentences, but they instantly brought tears to Mom's eyes.

Because everything written there expressed Dad's feelings for Madison and their time together.

At the end, he'd left all his remaining assets to Madison.

Even this villa had been specifically set aside for her.

As for Mom and me, he'd left us nothing.

Nothing except a mountain of debt we could never fully repay.

You have to understandthis villa alone was worth enough to pay off all of Dad's debts.

But he'd given it to Madison without hesitation, leaving Mom to work herself to the bone for over a decade, slowly paying back those debts bit by bit.

In that instant, all the blood in my body rushed to my head.

Right now, I wanted nothing more than to scatter my father's ashes to the wind.

Mom's hands trembled as she finished reading the letter, tears finally breaking free and streaming down her face.

Seeing this, Madison lifted her chin smugly.

"Do you believe me now? Just leave. With this suicide note, there's no way you can take your husband's ashes."

I couldn't control my emotions anymore either.

After helping Mom sit down on the couch, I strode toward Madison.

"Where are his ashes? Hand them over now!"

"I'm not giving them to you"

*Slap!*

I raised my hand and struck her hard across the face.

Madison's face whipped to the side.

She stared at me in disbelief.

"You hit me?"

I flexed my wrist and threatened her coldly.

"I'm not asking you. I'm telling you. If you don't hand them over right now, I'll beat you until your own mother wouldn't recognize you. After all, that suicide note can't prove one hundred percent that my father wrote it. I could easily say you stole my father's ashes. I just lost control for a moment out of anger."

With that, I grabbed a fistful of her hair and, ignoring her screams of pain, yanked her toward me.

"Talk! Where are my father's ashes?"

At that moment, a familiar voice suddenly came from the doorway behind me.

"Evelyn Thompson, what do you think you're doing? Let go of Madison right now!"

In an instant, every hair on my body stood on end.

Because that voice belonged to my fathermy father who had been "dead" for twelve years.

I stiffly turned my neck and looked back.

Standing in the doorway was a man.

It was my father.

He was alive.

He hadn't died.