Chapter 22 #2
I smooth my hands over my jeans and begin fidgeting with the hem of my shirt. I notice the paper clutched in Dad’s left hand, the edges worn soft from being folded and unfolded too many times. His fingers tremble as he slides it across the table toward me.
I raise a brow in question, looking at the paper and then to him. “What is this?”
He takes in a deep breath, fresh tears shining in his eyes, and compassion washes over me for Dad and the weight he’s been carrying for far too long. He’s had words in him that he’s held hostage for years, and now he’s struggling to find a way to say them.
My fingers hover over the paper before I finally open it, the soft crinkle echoing far too loudly in this quiet room. His handwriting is uneven, the letters slanting a bit, some words crowding together, and others scratched out and rewritten. But I’m still able to read it.
I’m sorry I missed out on being a part of your life.
I wanted to be there, but I was broken.
I didn’t know how to be the father you needed.
None of this was ever your fault.
My throat tightens, as if each word I read squeezes me tighter and tighter.
He writes about his fears and how the world grew too loud after his accident all those years ago.
He explains how conversations felt like standing in traffic, unable to move while everything rushed past him.
He wrote about his shame, how every time he thought about reaching out to me, the words became tangled in his head until silence felt safer than failing me again.
I never stopped loving you.
I just didn’t know how to come back.
Hot tears spill down my cheeks, splashing onto the page, smudging the ink. My hand trembles as I grip the paper tighter, afraid that if I let go, the words might disappear. Everything I’ve needed to hear from him is all right here. I cover my mouth with my fingers, at a loss for words.
When I finally look up, he’s watching me with an intensity that steals the air from my lungs. His shoulders are rigid, his hands clenched together on the table, knuckles turning pale. He looks as if he’s bracing himself for rejection.
“How long did it take you to write this?” My voice shakes despite my best effort to keep it steady.
“All night.”
“You stayed up all night to write this…for me?”
“Yes.”
I shake my head. “Why?” I whisper. “Why now?”
He swallows hard, his jaw tightening as he does. I stare into his eyes, the same shade of brown as mine and Ashton’s, glistening as he struggles to find the words. When they finally come, my heart breaks wide open.
“Because…” He exhales, his voice coming out a bit shaky. “I didn’t want…to lose you again.”
His words sink in slowly, settling deep into my heart, where all of my unanswered questions have been living for years.
And it’s everything I’ve been praying for.
The ache of everything we lost is still there, but it’s smoothed now, transforming into something I can carry with me that won’t break me anymore.
I no longer feel like a daughter waiting to be chosen.
I’m the daughter who’s mattered enough to be afraid of losing.
“I’m sorry,” the words tumble out of me. “I shouldn’t have demanded answers from you like that. I know it’s hard for you to speak, but I was so angry and hurt, and I took it out on you.”
His head shakes immediately. “No.” He reaches across the table, his hand hovering for a second before he gently covers mine. “I’m sorry. I left.”
Hot tears continue to spill out over my cheeks. “I spent so many years thinking I wasn’t worth anything to you.”
“You are…” He pauses and takes a breath before tightening his grip on my hand. “Worth everything.”
There’s a moment of silence as our hands stay intertwined, but it doesn’t feel heavy anymore. In fact, it feels full. Full of grief, and truth, and the fragile beginning of something new.
It feels like hope.
“I don’t know if I understand everything yet,” I admit softly. “But I want to. I—I forgive you, Dad.”
His breath breaks. It’s a quiet sound, like his relief is pouring out of him all at once.
He nods, unable to speak, his thumb brushing over my knuckles in a simple, affectionate gesture.
I close my eyes, thankful to God for this moment.
I ask Him to help me move forward because I know it’s one thing to say that I forgive my dad and another to actually release the anger and hurt.
I want to let go so we can move forward. I want my dad back in my life. For that, forgiveness is the only possible option.
I open my eyes to see that Dad is staring at me with a lopsided smile on his face. It’s the first time since I’ve been here that he no longer feels like a stranger.
“God…is good,” he whispers, giving me a nod.
A seed of gratification takes root inside my chest and begins to bloom. It spreads throughout my body as I smile back at him. “Yes. Yes, He is.”
I shut the doors to the greenhouse and make my way back to the cabin right as Ashton’s truck pulls into the driveway. All of the weight that had been lifted from my shoulders returns at the sight of my brother shutting his driver’s side door and crossing his arms as he sees me.
It wasn’t such a good idea leaving Ashton in the dark with this. If our roles were reversed, I would be upset with him too. Even though I know I’m in the wrong here, my fight-or-flight instincts kick in, and I have to battle the urge to take off running, like I used to do as a kid.