I was brushing my teeth when my phone buzzed on the nightstand. A number I didn’t recognize flashed on the screen. I hesitated. Who could it be at this hour? I ignored it and went back to brushing, but then another notification popped up. A text. My heart stopped before I even read it:
“ALICE, THIS IS YOUR DAD. PLEASE CALL, I AM IN THE HOSPITAL.”
Dad. After twenty years. My hands shook, and I dropped the toothbrush into the sink. Twenty years of unanswered questions, anger, and confusion flooded my mind. I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the message. I wanted to delete it, to pretend it wasn’t real—but curiosity, that dangerous little spark, won. I dialed the number.
A weak, trembling voice answered.
“Hello?”
“Dad?” My voice sounded smaller than I expected, almost uncertain.
“Alice… it’s me. I… I don’t have much time.”
“Why now?” I couldn’t stop the sharp edge in my tone. “After all these years, why now?”
“I need to explain… and I need to ask something of you. But please… don’t tell your mother.”
Secrecy. Just like old times. My chest tightened. “What do you want?”
He swallowed audibly. “I left because your grandfather, Harold… he paid me to disappear. He hated me. Thought I was a failure. He found someone else for your mom, someone better.”
I blinked, stunned. “Grandpa… he did that?”
“Yes. I was struggling back then… addictions, bad choices. Your grandfather saw a chance to get rid of me. And I… I took the money.”
My anger rose like a tide. “So you just left us for money?”
“I know it sounds horrible. But I invested that money, built a business. It was all for you, Alice. To secure your future.”
“Then why never come back?”
“Part of the deal. I couldn’t approach you or your mom. But I watched. I saw your graduation. Your volleyball games. I was always there… just from a distance.”
My world tilted. “Why didn’t Mom ever tell me?”
“I don’t know. Maybe she didn’t want you to hate him. Or maybe… she thought she was protecting you.”
“What do you want now?” My voice wavered.
“I need to see you, Alice. One last time. I’m at St. Mary’s Hospital.”
The line went silent. My mind raced. Could I face him after all this time? Could I even forgive him—or myself for feeling so angry?
“Please, Alice. It’s my dying wish.”
The next morning, I called in sick to work. I sat in the kitchen, coffee cooling in my hands, my thoughts swirling. Should I tell Mom? He asked me not to. Could I trust him? Could I forgive him?
I called my best friend, Jen. “Hey… can we talk?”
“Of course. What’s going on?”
“It’s… my dad. He called last night.”
“Your dad? The one who left?”
“Yeah. He’s dying… and he wants to see me.”
Jen was quiet for a moment. “Wow. That’s… heavy. How do you feel?”
“Angry. Confused. He told me things about Grandpa… about why he left.”
“Like what?”
“That Grandpa paid him to go away. That he watched me grow up but couldn’t approach us.”
Jen sighed. “Maybe you should go. Get answers. Closure.”
“I… I don’t know if I’m ready.”
“Take your time, but don’t wait too long. If he’s really dying…”
“I know. Thanks, Jen.”
Her words stuck. Maybe I did need closure. I couldn’t live with questions anymore. I couldn’t let him leave this world without hearing me.
Driving to the hospital, memories of my childhood flickered through my mind—the happy moments before he left, the emptiness afterward, the secrets Mom kept. I gripped the steering wheel tighter. This was going to change everything.
I stepped into the hospital room, heart hammering. The machines beeped steadily, marking time. He lay there, frail, almost unrecognizable. When he saw me, his eyes lit up, and a weak smile spread across his face.
“Alice,” he whispered.
“Hi, Dad.” I stood at the foot of the bed, unsure where to place the storm of emotions inside me—anger, sadness, confusion, longing.
“You came,” he said, relief in his voice.
“I had to. I need to understand why.”
“I know… and I’m so sorry for everything.” His hand shook as he reached for mine. I took it, feeling the frailty beneath my fingers.
“Why, Dad? Why take Grandpa’s money and leave us?”
He drew a shaky breath. “I thought it was the best way to give you and your mother a future. I was lost… addicted… broke. Your grandfather offered me a way out… a chance to give you a better life, even if it meant I couldn’t be part of it.”
“Do you know how much that hurt? How much it hurt me?” Tears blurred my vision. “You missed everything—my graduation, my games… my entire life!”
“I was there, Alice. Watching from afar. It broke my heart not to be with you, but I thought… I thought I was doing the right thing.” His chest heaved. “I invested that money, built something that I hoped would help you.”
“Why didn’t you come back when things got better?”
“I couldn’t. That was part of the deal. But I wrote to you, every year. Letters… in a safety deposit box.” He handed me a small key. “After I’m gone… open it. You’ll see proof… my love… my regrets… everything.”
“Why now, Dad? Why tell me this now?”
“Because I’m dying… and I can’t leave this world without you knowing the truth. I’ve always loved you, Alice. Always.”
Tears streamed down my face. “I needed you, Dad. I needed my father.”
“I know… and I’m sorry I wasn’t there. But I hope you’ll understand… when you read the letters.”
We sat silently, hands clasped, listening to the beeping of the machines. Finally, he squeezed my hand one last time, and then he was gone.
The next day, I opened the safety deposit box. Inside were stacks of financial documents and a bundle of letters, each one addressed to me over the years. I spent hours reading them. He wrote of his regrets, his love, his pride in me, and the business he built to secure my future.
By the last letter, my anger had softened into aching sadness. The money he left was substantial, yes—but understanding his choices, sacrifices, and love mattered even more.
I needed to talk to Mom. When I asked her, her eyes were sad but honest.
“I knew about the offer,” she admitted. “I didn’t stop it because I thought it was best for you. You deserved a better life than what your father could give you at the time.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I wanted to protect you… let you remember him without bitterness. Maybe I was wrong. But I did what I thought was best.”
Her words added another piece to the puzzle. Their love, flawed and complicated, shaped the person I had become.
In the end, I decided to honor my father’s memory by starting a scholarship fund in his name. A way to help others, just as he tried to help me.
As I launched it, I felt peace. The past had been painful, complicated, full of secrets and heartbreak. But it had also brought clarity. Now, with the truth in the open, I could move forward, honoring both my father’s love and my mother’s sacrifices.