My Dad Made Me Pay $250 a Month to Stay Under His Roof — After His Funeral, His Best Friend Handed Me a Box and Said, “He Wanted You to Open This After He Was Gone”

He simply hadn’t known how to show it until it was too late.

I looked around the studio, at the instruments, the photographs, and the guitar he’d repaired for me.

“Thanks, Dad,” I whispered.

Then I swallowed hard and added the words I’d wished I’d been able to say to him face-to-face.

“I just wish you’d told me while you were here.”</WritingBlock}