I grew up believing that my father blamed me for my mother’s death but the truth was heartbreaking.
I never knew my mother, and my father never spoke about her. All I knew was that she had been very beautiful, because of the picture that hung on my father’s study wall, and that she had died very young.
My father was a sad man, a quiet and distant man. I wanted him to notice me, and to love me, but he never did. He rarely spoke to me beyond the perfunctory hello and goodbye, good morning and goodnight. I would have given anything for him to sweep me into his arms and tell me he loved me.
The shadow of my mother’s death followed me my whole life | Source: Shutterstock.com
This strange and strained relationship with my father continued until I was 18, and by then I was a sad and lonely young woman who believed my father hated me. If my father didn’t love me, who would?
But the answer to all my questions was about to be delivered in the most painful and cruel way. My father was hosting a party for his business associates, and among them was a woman whom I knew slightly.
If you don’t leave the past behind you, you deny yourself a future.
I had the feeling that she and my father had a past together — or at least that she wished they did. She greeted me and we started chatting — inconsequential talk about nothing special — and my father walked by.
I gave him my best smile, but he immediately glanced away. The woman saw it all. “Do you know why?” she asked.
I grew up feeling that my father hated me | Source: Unsplash
“Why what?” I asked, confused.
“Why he hates you,” she said.
“My father doesn’t hate me!” I exclaimed. “He’s just not a very demonstrative man.”
“So you don’t know…” she smiled. It was the ugliest smile I’d ever seen. I was about to walk away when she said, “He believes you killed your mother, Karen.”
One day at a party someone told me the truth | Source: Unsplash
I stopped in my tracks. “What?” I gasped.
“Your mother died giving birth to you, surely you know that?” she said.
“No…” I answered. “No, I didn’t know.” I turned my back on her and went looking for my grandmother, my father’s mother, the woman who’d raised me and never told me about my mother’s death.
“How did my mother die?” I asked her angrily. “Was it in childbirth?”
My mother had died in childbirth | Source: Pexels
My grandmother shook her head. “Please Karen, your father asked me never to speak of this with you.”
“I have the right to know about my own mother!” I cried. “I have the right to know why my father hates me!”
Then a quiet angry voice behind me said, “I don’t hate you, Karen, but your mother’s death is none of your business:”
I turned to face my father. “My mother’s death is none of my business? You’re wrong! I killed her, didn’t I? That’s what you think each time you look at me!”
My father blamed me for her death | Source: Unsplash
The expression in his eyes sent me running out of the door. I got into my car and drove aimlessly, tears running down my face. In my distress, I didn’t see the oncoming car changing lanes until it was too late.
I woke up in the hospital linked to a beeping machine, with a dull promise of pain twinging through my whole body. Sitting by my side and holding my hand was my father.
“Karen,” he said softly, “Thank God you’re alright!”
“Daddy…” I whispered, “you’re here!”
Tears came into his eyes. “Of course I’m here. I don’t hate you, Karen. I love you. And I don’t blame you for your mother’s death, I blame myself. When your mom and I married we were very poor.
“All we had were dreams and our love for each other. Then she fell pregnant and I took on a second job. I knew we’d need the money when you came along. I was working 16-hour days and she spent a lot of time alone.
“So one day when I came home she wasn’t there. A neighbor had taken her to the hospital. When I got there it was all over. Your mother had died, and I hadn’t been there for her.
The accident nearly cost me my life | Source: Pexels
“I didn’t blame you, Karen, I blamed myself. I was determined I wasn’t going to fail you the way I’d failed her, so I threw myself into my work, and I became a rich man.
“Daddy, how could you blame yourself?” I asked. “There was nothing you could have done!”
“I could have been there, holding her hand the way I’m holding yours now,” he said.
“But daddy…” I hesitated, “you were always so angry with me, so cold. You ran away from me.”
My father and I were reconciled | Source: Unsplash
“Karen, you look just like your mother, and each time I looked at you, my heart was torn apart by grief and guilt. It took nearly losing you to make me realize what I’d done. I love you.”
For the first time in my life, my father put his arms around me and showed me that he loved me. It was a new beginning for both of us, and I like to believe my mother was smiling down from heaven.
What can we learn from this story?
- If you don’t leave the past behind you, you deny yourself a future. Karen’s father was so lost in his pain that he nearly lost the opportunity to have a wonderful relationship with his daughter.
- The truth can heal old wounds and open the way to a new beginning. It was only after Karen and her father spoke about their estrangement that they could move past their misunderstandings.
Share this story with your friends. It might brighten their day and inspire them.
If you enjoyed this story, you might like this one about a man who left his widowed mother homeless.
This account is inspired by our reader’s story but written by a professional writer. All names have been changed to protect identities and ensure privacy. Share your story with us, maybe it will change someone’s life.
Entitled Neighbor Vandalized My Sick Grandpa’s Car – I Taught Her to Mind Her Own Business
When I saw the cruel message scrawled on my recovering grandpa’s dusty car, I was livid. But uncovering the culprit’s identity was just the beginning. What I did next would teach this entitled neighbor a lesson she’d never forget.
Two months ago, I was at work when my phone rang. It was Mom.
“Meg, it’s Grandpa,” she barely managed to speak. “He’s in the hospital. He—”
“What? Hospital?” I cut her off, totally blindsided. “What happened?”
A woman talking on the phone at work | Source: Pexels
“He had a heart attack,” Mom continued in her shaky voice. “We gotta go see him.”
“Oh my God, Mom, is he okay?”
“I don’t know, Meg…”
“I’ll be there as fast as I can, Mom,” I replied as I quickly logged out of my work email.
The thing is, Grandpa Alvin is my rock, my confidant, and my favorite person in the world. It won’t be wrong to say that I love him more than Mom. Shh! It’s a secret!
An older man standing in his house | Source: Midjourney
And that phone call from Mom had turned my world upside down. I could literally feel a knot in my stomach as I rushed out of my office after informing my boss about Grandpa’s condition.
The drive home from my workplace is a blur. I don’t remember how I got there, but I quickly picked Mom up before we rushed to the hospital.
The drive from our house to the hospital was about 45 minutes long. And let me tell you, those were the longest, most painful 45 minutes of my life. Mom kept crying the entire time, while I could feel my heart pounding inside my chest.
Once we reached there, a nurse told us that Grandpa was in the operating room. After what felt like an eternity, the doctor came out.
A close-up shot of a doctor’s arms crossed on his chest | Source: Pexels
“The surgery was successful, but he needs rest and care,” he told us. “He needs to eat a heart-healthy diet, low in salt and saturated fats. Regular, gentle exercise is crucial. And absolutely no stress.”
“Alright, doc,” I nodded. “But when can we see him?”
“Is he really okay?” Mom asked impatiently.
“Don’t worry,” the doctor reassured her. “He’s resting comfortably now. The nurses will let you know when it’s a good time to visit.”
A doctor talking to a woman | Source: Midjourney
Grandpa was allowed to go home a few days later, but there was a problem. He lives in another town, and we couldn’t visit him every day to look after him.
As a result, we hired a full-time nurse.
She was a godsend, agreeing to cook for him too. For two months, Grandpa didn’t leave his apartment and focused solely on his recovery.
Last week, I realized it had been too long since I’d seen him.
A woman sitting on a chair, thinking | Source: Midjourney
“Mom,” I said over breakfast, “I’m going to visit Grandpa this weekend. Wanna come?”
Her eyes lit up.
“That’s a wonderful idea, honey,” she smiled. “I’ll come with you. He’ll be so happy to see us!”
“Perfect!” I said before I took a bite of my scrambled eggs.
On Saturday, I woke up early, bought a bouquet of Grandpa’s favorite bright yellow sunflowers, and drove all the way to his place with Mom.
I couldn’t wait to meet him and see his face light up. I was expecting a day full of Grandpa’s stories, unaware of what was waiting for us there.
As we pulled into the parking lot of his apartment complex, I spotted his old, beat-up car. It was covered with a thick layer of dust, clearly proving he hadn’t driven it since getting sick.
But as we got closer, something made my blood boil.
A woman in a car | Source: Midjourney
Someone had left a message on the rear windscreen. It seemed like they had written it using their finger. It looked fresh.
The message read, “YOU ARE A DIRTY PIG! CLEAN UP YOUR CAR OR GET OUT OF THE COMMUNITY. SHAME! SHAME! SHAME!”
I was absolutely furious. How could someone be so cruel to an old man who’s been too sick to even get out of bed, let alone clean his car?
A woman in a car, looking angry | Source: Midjourney
“Oh my God,” Mom gasped. “Who would do such a thing?”
I clenched my fists. I could feel my cheeks burn with rage.
“Some entitled jerk with nothing better to do than harass a sick old man, that’s who.”
Then, I felt Mom’s soft hand on my arm.
“Honey, calm down,” she said. “Let’s not upset your grandfather.”
I took a deep breath, trying to compose myself.
“You’re right. Let’s go see him.”
A parking lot of an apartment complex | Source: Pexels
We quickly headed up to Grandpa’s apartment. I rang the bell, waiting for him to open the door.
“My girls!” he smiled from ear to ear. “What a wonderful surprise!”
“Grandpa!” I hugged him tight. “You look so good! So handsome!”
“Well, of course I do!” he chuckled. “When have I ever not looked handsome? Even in my hospital gown, I was turning heads left and right!”
An older man in his house, smiling | Source: Midjourney
As we headed inside, I couldn’t stop thinking of the cruel message on his car. I couldn’t erase that image from my mind.
“Megan? Are you listening, sweetheart?” Grandpa’s voice snapped me back to reality.
“Sorry, Grandpa. I was just… thinking. How are you feeling?”
We chatted for a while, but my mind kept drifting to that message. I needed to do something about it.
“Hey, I need to take care of something real quick,” I said, standing up. “Mom, can you stay with Grandpa? I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
A woman talking to her mother | Source: Midjourney
“Sure, honey,” Mom said.
In no time, I headed down to the security office near the entrance, where I met a bored-looking guy sitting behind the desk.
“Excuse me,” I said. “I need to see the security camera footage from the parking lot.”
He raised an eyebrow as he straightened his back.
“Sorry, ma’am. We can’t just show that to anyone who asks.”
A security guard | Source: Midjourney
I leaned in, lowering my voice.
“Look, my grandfather lives here. He’s been very ill, and someone vandalized his car with a horrible message. I need to know who did it.”
The guard hesitated, then nodded.
“Alright, just this once.”
We reviewed the footage from the last few days when I suddenly saw an older, snooty-looking woman, heading towards Grandpa’s car. She took her sweet time to write that awful message on his car.
An older woman standing near a black car | Source: Midjourney
“Who is this?” I asked the guard.
“That’s Briana from 4C,” he said. “Always causing trouble.”
I thanked him and turned to leave, but he stopped me.
“Wait, there’s something else. I overheard some of the neighbors talking in the lobby last week. Apparently, this Briana woman has been giving your grandfather a hard time for months now.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
He scratched his chin thoughtfully.
A security guard talking to a woman | Source: Midjourney
“Well, they were saying she’s been complaining about every little thing. Like, she’d make a fuss if his newspaper was left out too long, or if his welcome mat wasn’t perfectly straight. One of the ladies even mentioned that Briana tried to get your grandpa fined for having a potted plant that was ‘an unapproved color’ or something ridiculous like that.”
“Are you serious? Why hasn’t anyone done anything about this?”
“Most folks just try to avoid her, I guess,” he shrugged.
“Your grandpa’s too nice to make a big deal out of it. But between you and me, I think everyone’s getting pretty fed up with her attitude.”
Yeah, my grandpa’s nice, but I’m not, I thought to myself before marching straight to Briana’s apartment.
The door opened soon after I knocked on it.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
“I’m Alvin’s granddaughter,” I said, struggling to keep my voice steady. “I saw what you wrote on his car. You have no right to humiliate him like that!”
A young woman talking to her grandfather’s neighbor | Source: Midjourney
“I don’t care,” she shrugged. “If he can’t keep up with community standards, maybe he shouldn’t be living here.”
And with that, she slammed the door in my face.
I was livid. It was clear that talking to her wasn’t going to get anywhere, so I decided to handle it my own way. I came up with a plan to teach her a lesson. All I needed was a roll of duct tape and a paper with evidence.
A woman leaving a building | Source: Midjourney
The next day, I took a screenshot of the security camera footage, ensuring Briana’s face was clear, and got it printed. Then, in big, bold letters, I wrote: “SHAME! SHAME! SHAME! Lady from Apt 4C is abusing elderly neighbors.”
I taped that sign right in the elevator where everyone would see it. It was crystal clear who she was and what she’d done.
Within a day, the whole building was buzzing.
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