My Dad Who Left 20 Years Ago Called from His Deathbed for a Final Wish — What He Asked Broke My Heart
When my estranged father, who left 20 years ago, called from his deathbed, I was torn between anger and curiosity. His final wish was something I never expected, and what he revealed about his disappearance shattered everything I thought I knew.
I was getting ready for bed when my phone buzzed on the nightstand. The number was unfamiliar, so I 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.”
A woman in her bedroom at night, looking at her phone | Source: Midjourney
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.”
“Why are you calling now?” My voice was harsher than I intended.
“I need to explain… to ask something of you. But please, don’t tell your mother.”
Doctors standing beside a hospital bed, looking concerned | Source: Pexels
There it was, the same secrecy that defined my childhood. “What do you want?”
He took a shaky breath. “I left because your grandfather, Harold, paid me to disappear. He hated me, thought I was a failure. He found someone else for your mom, someone better.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Grandpa? He did that?”
“Yes. I was struggling back then. Addictions, bad decisions. Your grandfather saw a chance to get rid of me, and I took the money.”
A sick-looking man lying in bed | Source: Pexels
“So you just left us for money?” Anger bubbled up.
“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?”
An old man in a hospital bed talking on a cell phone | Source: Midjourney
“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 exterior of a hospital building at night | Source: Midjourney
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?”
A woman talking on a cell phone | Source: Pexels
“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 graduation, my games. But he couldn’t approach us.”
“That’s insane. What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. He wants me to visit him, but I’m not sure I can.”
A woman in conversation on a cell phone | Source: Pexels
Jen was silent for a moment. “Maybe you should go. Get some answers. Closure.”
“I guess. But I don’t know if I’m ready to face him.”
“Take your time, but don’t take too long. If he’s dying…”
“I know. Thanks, Jen.”
After hanging up, I sat back, deep in thought. Jen was right. Maybe I did need closure. I couldn’t keep living with these unanswered questions. And if he really was dying… I had to see him.
A woman driving a car | Source: Pexels
I decided to go to the hospital. As I drove, memories of my childhood flashed through my mind. The good times before he left, the confusion and pain afterward. The way Mom never spoke about him, the unanswered questions that haunted me.
I walked into the hospital room, feeling the weight of years and unanswered questions pressing down on me. The beeping machines filled the stark room with an unsettling rhythm. My dad lay in the bed, looking more frail than I had ever imagined. His eyes lit up when he saw me, a weak smile forming on his lips.
An old man sitting up in a hospital bed | Source: Midjourney
“Alice,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.
“Hi, Dad.” I stood at the foot of the bed, not sure what to say. Anger and confusion swirled inside me, but seeing him like this, so vulnerable, made it hard to voice them.
“You came,” he said, relief evident in his eyes.
“I had to. I needed to understand why.”
“I know, and I’m so sorry for everything.” He reached out a trembling hand, and I took it, feeling the cold, fragile skin.
A young woman close to an old man in a hospital bed | Source: Midjourney
“Why did you do it, Dad? Why did you take Grandpa’s money and leave us?”
He sighed, a deep, rattling sound. “I thought it was the best way to secure a future for you and your mother. I was a mess, Alice. 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 us? How much it hurt me?” Tears welled up in my eyes. “You missed everything, Dad. My graduation, my volleyball games, my entire life.”
A woman with tears in her eyes | Source: Midjourney
“I was there, Alice. Watching from afar. It broke my heart not to be with you, but I thought I was doing the right thing.” He paused, struggling for breath. “I tried to make it right. I invested the money, built something that I hoped would help you.”
“Why didn’t you come back when you were better?”
“I couldn’t. Part of the deal was that I had to stay away. But I wrote to you, Alice. Letters, every year. They’re in a safety deposit box. Here.” He handed me a small key. “After I’m gone, open it. You’ll find proof of everything, and the letters.”
A small key in the palm of a hand | Source: Pexels
I took the key, my fingers trembling. “Why now, Dad? Why tell me all this now?”
“Because I’m dying, and I can’t leave this world without you knowing the truth. I love you, Alice. I’ve always loved you.”
Tears streamed down my face as I gripped his hand. “I needed you, Dad. I needed my father.”
“I know, and I’m so sorry I wasn’t there. But I hope you’ll understand why I did what I did when you read those letters.”
An apparently comatose figure in a hospital bed | Source: Pexels
We sat in silence, holding hands, the machines’ beeping the only sound in the room. After a while, his breathing became more labored. He squeezed my hand one last time, and then he was gone.
I left the hospital feeling a mix of emotions. Relief, anger, sadness, and a strange sense of closure. The next day, I went to the bank and used the key to open the safety deposit box. Inside, I found stacks of financial documents and a bundle of letters, each one addressed to me, dated over the years.
A corridor of safety deposit boxes | Source: Midjourney
I took the letters home and spent hours reading them. Each one was filled with his regrets, his love, his hopes for my future. He wrote about the business he built, how he watched over me, how proud he was of my achievements.
By the time I finished the last letter, my anger had softened into a deep, aching sadness.
With the financial documents, it was clear that my father had indeed worked hard to secure my future. The money he left behind was substantial, enough to change my life. But it wasn’t just about the money. It was about understanding his choices, his sacrifices, and his love.
A woman takes up a hand-written letter | Source: Pexels
I knew I had to talk to my mom. I needed to know her side of the story. When I confronted her, she looked at me with sad eyes.
“I knew about the offer,” she admitted. “I didn’t stop it because I thought it was best for you too. I thought you deserved a better life than what your father could give you at that time.”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
“I wanted to protect you from the truth, to let you remember him without bitterness. Maybe I was wrong, but I did what I thought was best.”
An elderly woman looking down thoughtfully | Source: Pexels
Her confession was another piece of the puzzle, helping me to understand the complex web of decisions that shaped my life.
In the end, I decided to use the money to start a scholarship fund in my father’s name. It felt like the right way to honor his memory and his efforts. It was a way to help others, just as he had tried to help me.
As I launched the scholarship, I felt a sense of peace. The past was complicated and painful, but it had brought me to where I was. And now, with the truth out in the open, I could move forward, honoring both my father’s love and my mother’s sacrifices.
A woman making calculations with a pen in hand | Source: Pexels
My DIL Gifted Me a Box of Insects for My 60th Birthday, When She Heard My Announcement At The Party, She Made Herself a Victim
My DIL Gifted Me a Box of Insects for My 60th Birthday, When She Heard My Announcement At The Party, She Made Herself a Victim
On Martha’s 60th birthday, her daughter-in-law plays a cruel prank that causes chaos at the party. Amid the panic, Martha stays calm, knowing her big announcement will turn the tables.
So, it was my 60th birthday, and I was determined to make it a memorable one—after all, you only turn 60 once, right?
As I flitted from one room to another, making sure everything was in place, I couldn’t help but feel a little anxious. You see, a week ago, my daughter-in-law, Emily, and I had a bit of a blowout and I couldn’t help but feel it would come back to bite me.
Mature woman looking pensive | Source: Pexels
Emily has a gross habit of leaving food out for days—sometimes even weeks. So, I pointed it out to her, thinking she might appreciate the heads-up about potential insect problems. Boy, was I wrong.
“Mind your own business, Martha,” she snapped, her eyes flashing with anger. “You always have something to say about how I run my house.”
I stood there, taken aback. “Emily, I’m just trying to help. You know how quickly pests can—”
“I don’t need your help,” she snarled.
Woman crossing her arms | Source: Pexels
We hadn’t spoken since. That’s why, when she arrived at my party acting unusually sweet, I felt a knot of suspicion tighten in my stomach.
But I decided to forget about it, focusing instead on enjoying my day with my family and friends.
The party was in full swing when the doorbell rang.
“I’ll get it!” I called, hurrying to the door. The mailman handed me a brightly wrapped package with a big “Happy Birthday” label on it. My guests gathered around, their curiosity piqued.
“Open it, Martha!” someone urged.
Gift | Source: Pexels
With everyone watching, I placed the box on the dining table and carefully lifted the lid. My eyes widened in horror as hundreds of insects—ants, caterpillars, and other creepy crawlies—spilled out, swarming over the table and onto the floor.
Chaos erupted. People screamed and jumped back, knocking over chairs and spilling drinks.
“What the heck?!” my friend Lisa shrieked, swatting at a cockroach crawling up her leg.
“Who would do such a thing?” Aunt Jane gasped.
I knew Emily was behind this, but I said nothing, knowing that she’d soon get payback.
Smiling mature woman | Source: Pexels
Everyone fled to the backyard. My friends and family stood around, shaking their heads and murmuring about the audacity of someone pulling such a prank.
“Can you believe it?” Lisa asked, still swatting at imaginary insects. “Who would do something so cruel?”
Aunt Jane, ever the drama queen, clutched her pearls even tighter. “It’s despicable! What kind of person would ruin a birthday party like this?”
As the guests continued to express their disgust and confusion, I knew it was time for my big reveal.
Mature woman | Source: Pexels
I clinked my glass with a spoon. “Everyone, may I have your attention, please?”
The crowd quieted down, all eyes turning to me.
“First of all, thank you all for making my 60th birthday so special, despite the… unexpected turn of events,” I began, glancing at the house behind me. “As you all know, reaching this milestone has made me reflect on my life and my future.”
I paused, allowing my words to sink in before dropping the bombshell. “So, I’ve decided it’s time for a change. I’m retiring and moving to the countryside.”
A suburban home | Source: Pexels
A collective murmur ran through the crowd. I raised my hand to silence them. “And, I’m giving this house to my son, Mark, and his lovely wife, Emily.”
Gasps echoed around the backyard. Emily’s face turned ashen. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.
Mark looked at her, bewildered. “Emily, what’s wrong?”
She stammered, her eyes darting around as if searching for an escape route.
“It… it was supposed to be a joke,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
A woman | Source: Pexels
Mark’s confusion deepened. “What are you talking about?”
Emily swallowed hard, tears welling up in her eyes. “The insects. It was me. I sent them as a prank. I never imagined we’d end up with the house!”
A stunned silence fell over the guests.
Mark’s face turned crimson with anger. “You did what?”
“It was just a joke!” Emily insisted, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I thought it would be funny. I didn’t think—”
Mark cut her off, his voice cold and furious.
Stern looking man | Source: Pexels
“You think it’s amusing to ruin my mother’s birthday?” Mark’s jaw clenched tight. “We need to talk. Now.”
He took her by the arm and led her away from the party, leaving the rest of us in stunned silence.
The guests exchanged shocked glances, the weight of the situation settling in. I watched Mark and Emily disappear into the house, feeling a mix of vindication and sadness.
I hadn’t wanted this day to end in such turmoil, but Emily had brought this upon herself.
Mature woman sitting | Source: Pexels
Minutes felt like hours, but finally, Emily emerged from the house, her eyes red and swollen from crying. She hurried past us without a word, got into her car, and drove away.
The sound of the engine starting and then fading into the distance felt like the closing of a particularly painful chapter.
Mark returned, his expression a mixture of frustration and resignation. He walked over to me, and I could see the weight of the situation bearing down on his shoulders.
“I’m so sorry, Mom,” he said quietly. “I had no idea she would do something like this.”
A bearded man | Source: Unsplash
I placed a reassuring hand on his arm. “It’s not your fault, Mark. This is something she’ll need to think about and hopefully learn from.”
The guests, sensing the end of the festivities, began to leave. One by one, they offered their goodbyes, their faces still marked with the shock of the evening’s revelations.
“Take care, Martha. And happy birthday,” Lisa said softly, giving me a hug before she left.
After everyone was gone, Mark and I sat in the now-quiet backyard. The decorations looked sad and out of place in the aftermath of the chaos.
Party decorations on a table | Source: Pexels
“What a mess,” Mark sighed, running a hand through his hair.
“It’s a mess, but it’s also a chance to clean up, literally and figuratively,” I replied, trying to offer some comfort. “Sometimes things need to break before they can be fixed.”
In the following days, the house felt emptier. Emily didn’t come back, and Mark was left to deal with the aftermath alone. He threw himself into cleaning up the remnants of the party, as if physical labor could somehow mend the emotional damage.
Man cleaning windows | Source: Pexels
One afternoon, as I packed the last of my belongings for the move to the countryside, Mark sat with me in the living room. “I’m really sorry about everything, Mom,” he said, his voice heavy with regret.
I looked at him, seeing the man he had become—the struggles, the growth, and the resilience.
“It’s okay, Mark. This situation isn’t easy for any of us. But sometimes, these difficult moments make us stronger.”
He nodded, a look of determination in his eyes.
Close up of a man’s right eye | Source: Pexels
“I just want to make things right with Emily. I need to understand why she did what she did and how we can move forward.”
“I know you will,” I said, giving him a reassuring smile. “And this house—it’s yours now. It’s a place for you to create new memories, to rebuild and grow.”
Moving day arrived, and as I looked around the empty house one last time, I felt a mixture of sadness and hope. This was the place where I had raised my family, where we had shared countless memories.
But it was also a place of new beginnings.
Packed boxes for moving house | Source: Pexels
As I drove to my new home in the countryside, I thought about Mark and Emily. I hoped this incident would be a turning point for them, a chance to reflect on their relationship and the values they wanted to uphold.
In the quiet serenity of the countryside, I found peace. The rolling hills and open skies offered a fresh start, a chance to embrace the next chapter of my life. And as I settled into my new home, I remained hopeful for my son’s future.
Countryside house | Source: Pexels
Mark, with a clearer perspective, was beginning to reassess his relationship, striving to build a family founded on understanding, respect, and love.
My 60th birthday had indeed been memorable, not in the way I had expected, but in a way that marked the beginning of something new—for all of us.
Mature woman smelling flowers | Source: Pexels
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