A Girl Gets A Call From Her Dying Father Decades After He Left The Family

When we have a family with a difficult history, there are times when we just can’t get beyond it. We might feel as if we are never going to be able to be a family unit again.
That is what happened to the girl in the following story when she got an unexpected phone call from her father, who had disappeared many years previously. He was begging her to come to the hospital but what would she do?

Sometimes it is better to swallow our pride and to do something that may seem uncomfortable at first. In doing so, we can learn a lesson we carry with us for the rest of our lives.

I was getting ready for bed when my phone buzzed on the nightstand. The number was unfamiliar, so l let it go to voicemail. Not even a minute later, a text came through: “ALICE, THIS IS YOUR DAD. PLEASE CALL, I AM IN THE HOSPITAL.”
My heart stopped. Dad? After twenty years? I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at the message. Part of me wanted to delete it and forget, but curiosity won. I called the number back.
“Hello?” The voice was weak, barely audible.
“Dad?”
“Alice, it’s me. I… I don’t have much time.”
Rand Mara

“I know it sounds awful. But I invested that money, built a business. It was all for you, Alice. To secure your future.”
“Why didn’t you ever come back?”
“Part of the deal. I couldn’t approach you or your mom. But I was there, watching. I saw your graduation, your volleyball games. I was always there, just… from a distance.”
I felt like my world was tilting. “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?” I asked, my voice trembling.
“I need to see you, Alice. One last time

before I go. I’m at St. Mary’s Hospital.”

I didn’t know what to say. Could I face him after everything?

“Please, Alice. It’s my dying wish.”

The line went silent, and I sat there, the phone still in my hand, my thoughts tumbling. Should I go? What would I even say to him? I needed to think, but there was no time. He was dying.

The next morning, I called in sick to work and sat in my kitchen, staring at my coffee. Should I tell Mom? But he’d asked me not to.

I called my best friend, Jen. “Hey, can we talk?”

“Of course. What’s up?”

“It’s… it’s my dad. He called last night.”

“Your dad? The one who left?”

“Yeah. He’s dying, and he wants to see me.”

“Wow. How do you feel about that?”

“I don’t know. Angry, confused. He told me things, Jen. About my Grandpa.”

“Like what?”

“That my grandfather paid him to leave. He said he was there at my

what?”

“That my grandfather paid him to leave. He said he was there at my graduation, my games. But he couldn’t approach us.”