Chapter 32. Everybody Needs Somebody to Love #2
“He did. And as much as I would have liked him to be around more, the fact of the matter is his job takes him away from us. He has his reasons for accepting those overseas postings. But he’s still my son. Your dad. He asks about you whenever we talk. He’s trying.”
Before I could reply, my grandfather was already opening the car door and stepping out, ending our conversation. My father gave Opa a hug, then directed his gaze at me. “Kimmy. Can I have a word?”
I let out a long breath. “Sure. But first of all, I hate that nickname.”
He frowned. “I’m sorry?”
“I hate that you call me Kimmy. Please don’t ever call me that again.”
I turned around and followed Opa into the house without another word. My grandfather waved toward his bedroom. “I’ll be in my room.”
The first few minutes after Opa had closed his door were deathly quiet. I plopped myself down on the sofa, and watched my dad, waiting for him to start talking.
“I know you haven’t been happy with me,” he began. “I haven’t been the best parent…”
“Or son.”
“… Yes, I know, and if you can give me a few minutes of your time, I want to tell you my side of the story.”
I sighed. “Dad. You haven’t been here for your own father for the past year and a half since he’s been on dialysis.
You haven’t been here for him, for Oma, for me, and you’ve had the past thirty years to make things right, but you haven’t made any effort to.
Why do you want to suddenly tell your side of the story now? ”
“Things haven’t been easy, Kim.” It was his turn to sigh. “You remind me so much of your mother. You look just like her, and seeing you used to remind me of what I’d lost. It made me think of her, and what my life, our lives, could have been if she was still alive.”
That hurt more than I’d expected. Seeing me was painful for him, so he chose not to see me at all?
“And for a time, I was also angry at my parents. So I left.”
I spluttered. “Fine, I can accept if you don’t want to be around because I reminded you of Mom, but how can you be angry at your parents? They’re the nicest people in the world. What did they do?”
“When Hana died, I was heartbroken, and all I’d wanted to do was bury myself with work,” he said.
“I decided that I could never open my heart and love anyone else again, the way I loved her. Not another woman, not my parents, not even my own daughter. It was easier to focus on my career instead of investing in relationships with the people that mattered in my life, so I wouldn’t have to go through the heartbreak of losing anyone else, ever again.
I thought I could protect my heart and myself that way. ”
I stared at him. Because I’d never heard this part before.
And because I’d never realized how we were very similar in so many ways.
“But my parents wouldn’t let me. They tried to force me to be present, for your sake.
They wanted me to move past my grief, as if nothing had happened.
As if the love of my life hadn’t just left me on my own, forever, to raise our child.
They wanted me to be strong so I could”—he made air quotes with his hands—“‘be there for you.’ I love my parents, and I knew they only wanted the best for me, for you.
I thought they were right. And for a while, I did it.
I put up a brave front and went on with my life.
“But then it got to be too much. I just couldn’t keep up the facade anymore.
I wasn’t okay. Being here”—he waved his hand around the house—“being in this city, seeing you, everything reminded me of her. So I accepted an overseas assignment, because I thought that distancing myself from you, from my parents, taking a break from everyone, was the right thing to do. For my own sake, and for yours, because you deserved a better parent than what I could give you at the time.”
I took a deep breath. That had given me an entirely new perspective of my father. “Why are you back now?”
“I’ve been asked to retire. They’ve given me a twelve-month contract for a desk job at the local Port Benedict office, so that was basically my notice.”
Anger began bubbling up to the surface again. “So now that you’re retiring, you thought you could go back to the family you’ve abandoned for so many years?”
“Kim.” My father looked old and tired. “I haven’t abandoned you. I might not be here, but I checked in with my parents every now and then. They told me everything that’s been happening with your lives.”
“Why don’t you ever check in with me?”
At that, he was quiet. “If I wanted to be honest, I was scared.”
I let out a low scoff.
“I know I messed up with you. And I didn’t even know where to begin fixing it. I didn’t think a casual text message once every month was the solution.”
“No, but it could be a start.”
“But would you have answered?” His smile was sad. “Or would you have ignored my message, or worse, given me a one-word perfunctory answer?”
I was quiet, because that was exactly what I would have done.
“All I’m saying is, I’m here to apologize.
Being asked to retire puts a lot of things into perspective, and I realize now that staying away from you and from my parents isn’t the answer.
I will never not grieve your mother, but I’ve learned to live with it over the years.
And if anything, it reminds me that I need to be present for you and for my father, before it’s too late.
” He paused, suddenly looking unsure. “I know I’ll have to earn your forgiveness, but I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.
And I want to work on our relationship. But if you’re not interested, I’ll understand. ”
Opa was right. Dad was trying. It might not be enough, but it was probably all he could give right now.
We both had issues that we had to work through, but he was here, and he was trying to make amends.
It didn’t mean it was as easy as forgiving him and moving on with our lives, as if the past thirty years hadn’t happened, but maybe, maybe, this could be the start to a—somewhat—normal relationship with him.
“I know you have a lot to think about,” my dad said. “But I’ll be around this time. And I really hope you’ll give me a chance to make things right.”
I was still sitting on the sofa half an hour later when Opa came to the living room.
“Where’s your dad?”
“He left. Said he’s staying at the Plaza hotel tonight.” I made a vague gesture toward the front door, then looked up at my grandfather. “He’s coming back to stay. How can you be so calm and so forgiving of a son who hasn’t been here for you for so long?”
Opa sighed and took a seat next to me. “It hasn’t been easy for your dad, Kim.”
“It hasn’t been easy for all of us. Yet you stayed. Oma stayed. You didn’t leave.”
“Because we love you too much. We love him too much. I forgave him a long time ago. I’ve lost your grandma, and I don’t want to lose him, too.
Being angry with him and confronting him will only push him away.
” He gave me a sad smile. “I know it’s harder for you.
I couldn’t help but always think how your life would probably have been different, had you grown up in a real family with both your parents and maybe even some siblings. ”
I shook my head vehemently, prepared to go into a lengthy debate of why I wasn’t missing out on anything. I didn’t need my dad, or any imaginary siblings, because my grandparents were my real family. But Opa wasn’t finished yet.
“Your grandmother and I have been truly blessed to be able to raise you. I knew Daniel was hurting and struggling when he lost Hana, and we had no right to stop him from doing what he wanted with his life. And you’ve always been such a wonderful child,” Opa said.
“Always so independent, even when you were younger. Even with what you’ve been through, you’ve always managed to accomplish so much without our help.
I’m so proud of everything you’ve achieved.
How you’ve jumped in and taken over the store without complaining.
” He heaved a sigh. “But there’s a difference between being independent and putting up a wall so that no one can get close to you.
We all need other people, and there’s no weakness in that.
You need to allow people in, to support and help if you needed any, and to learn when not to push them away. ”
I shook my head. “What does this have anything to do with dad?”
“It has everything to do with him. I know you think you can’t trust other people because he left.
Because he abandoned you first. And when Leo happened, it’s like you cemented that thought in your head, that you will only get hurt if you trust someone and let them into your life.
” Opa reached forward and enveloped my hands in his.
“Your grandmother knows this, too. I think that’s probably why she included that ridiculous clause in the will.
Because she—we—wanted you to have someone in your life.
When I’m gone, I want to rest in peace knowing that you’ll have someone to share your life with, someone to be there with you through thick and thin.
You’re a strong, independent woman. But everybody needs somebody. Even the strongest of us all.”
“But I tried. I thought I could trust Rob. Turned out I couldn’t. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to go through anything like that again.”
“You can.” My grandfather gave me a small smile. “If it’s the right person, you can.”