I spent years of my life wanting to take revenge on my father because he abandoned me when I needed him the most. When life gave me the chance to do it, I thought twice.
One day I opened the door and I saw someone I didn’t expect. It was my dad. I hadn’t seen him for ages. In fact, I didn’t want to.
“Hi, son. I’m sorry to come like this. I tried to call you but you didn’t answer your phone,” he told me.
“Yeah, what do you want?”
“I was wondering if maybe I could stay with you… I don’t have a place right now, so…”
I found my dad sleeping on the streets. | Source: Pexel
“You can stay. But you have to pay rent.”
“But I don’t have any money at all… and you’re the only person who can help me.”
“I don’t care,” I said, feeling my heart tighten. “You can live on the street. I wish God had taken you instead of mom!”
I slammed the door and my wife was just behind me. She was pissed with what just happened but she had no idea what I went through with this man. She pushed me to tell her, so I did.
It all started when I turned 18. My mom had passed away 2 years before that, so I think my dad was still adapting to taking both roles. He prepared a surprise birthday party and everything. After we celebrated, he asked me what I was planning to do with my living situation and I was like, what the heck?
He told me I was an adult and if I wanted to stay with him in the house, I needed to pay some kind of rent. I was so angry. Pay rent? To my own father?! What’s wrong with him?
My dad prepared a surprise birthday party for me. | Source: Pexel
He continued with his argument saying that was normal and I had to grow up. When I told him I’d rather live in a dorm in college than pay him rent, he said he couldn’t afford college and I had to pay for it myself. That I should either get a job or a loan.
“I felt betrayed, Julie. I didn’t expect that. That’s why I left,” I told my wife.
Julie said my father reached out to her a few days earlier and that she gave him our address. That’s right, she didn’t tell me anything either…
I got into an argument with my wife because of my dad. | Source: Pexel
And then, she suggested I forgive my father. “It’s been years,” she said.
But no. I wasn’t ready. I didn’t want to forgive him. He was the one who threw me out like some kind of stray dog. “No, Julie, I work 24/7 to at least, eat normally. And he? He just abandoned me! No forgiveness!” I told her.
“Come on, honey, he’s your father!”
“So what? You don’t know! You don’t understand… Only my mom truly loved me. And she would have never allowed him to kick me out of my own house and…”
In the heat of our fight, I stepped out and went for a walk. | Source: Pexel
“Nick,” Julie interrupted me, “do you know your father’s side of the story? I mean you lost your mom but he lost his wife… Have you thought about how this affected him as well?”
“You know what? THAT’S ENOUGH!” I shouted, “I don’t want to hear it!! I’m done…”
Julie almost burst into tears. We barely fought and I knew she was trying to help me. I decided to get some fresh air and went for a walk.
I saw a man sleeping on a bench and I recognized him. | Source: Pexel
When I passed by some benches, I couldn’t believe my eyes. I spotted a man sleeping on one but I thought it was a hobo. But I looked a second time and I knew I knew him from somewhere… it was my dad!
“Dad, wake up! Are you OK?”
He woke up straight away, “Nick, is that you?!”
“Yes, dad, I’m really sorry! I just…”
“I just wanted you to do good in life and…”
“Shh, easy dad, that’s okay, that’s okay.”
He burst into tears. “I thought if you had to pay rent then maybe… maybe you would move on. I wanted to help you, son. You were just sitting on the couch. You weren’t doing anything.” He continued, visibly emotional, “I wanted to motivate you to get a job and live your life.”
My dad got emotional when I found him. | Source: Pexel
“I know I couldn’t pay for your college because I invested the money into my business and… I was gonna give the business to you. But I lost everything, Nick.”
I finally understood what Julie meant. His part of the story. Everything he did was with good intentions. So I couldn’t leave him like that. I knew I was the only person he had left.
“No, dad,” I replied. “If it wasn’t for you, I would have stayed on the couch and achieved nothing. You pushed me for good and I needed to get out of my comfort zone.”
“Yes, that’s what I wanted, Nick.”
“I know, dad. But I didn’t see it that way. I thought you betrayed me. But because you did what you did, now I have a great job and a beloved family. And that’s all thanks to you!”
He was so happy when we decided to forgive each other. | Source: Pexel
“I know I did a lot of things… I know I hurt you, son. Can you forgive me?”
“No, it’s you who should forgive me, dad!” Suddenly, I felt something shifting inside of me. I had been practicing meditation a lot and one of them was about forgiveness. I could never truly forgive my father before, but that day, I did it. Finally.
I started to practice meditation to forgive my father. | Source: Pexel
“I’ve held this anger for so many years… And I’ve tried different things to get rid of it. But now I understand… I was wrong.” I stood up and took him by the hand. “Let’s go home, dad. We have a lot to talk about…”
“Thank you, son. I love you! I’ve always loved you!”
“You’ll be a grandfather!”
“Wait, what? Is Julie pregnant?!”
My dad would soon become a grandfather. | Source: Unsplash
What can we learn from this story?
- We should always appreciate our parents. We are all humans and we make mistakes. We never know what kind of sacrifices they went through for us.
- Forgiveness can set one free. Nick was holding grudges against his father for so many years and he felt free when he forgave the man.
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If you enjoyed this story, you might like this one about a man who forced her stepdaughter to become a golddigger.
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The Taste of Love: A Father’s Tribute
The kitchen, once a haven of warmth and laughter, now echoed with the clatter of pots and pans. John, a man more accustomed to spreadsheets than soufflés, stood amidst the chaos, his brow furrowed in concentration. Pancake batter, a lumpy, greenish-grey concoction, clung stubbornly to the sides of the bowl. His wife, Sarah, would have laughed, her eyes twinkling.
He missed her laughter. He missed her easy grace in the kitchen, the way she hummed along to the radio while whipping up culinary magic. He missed the way she’d kiss his cheek and say, “Don’t worry, darling, I’ve got this.” Now, he was adrift in a sea of burnt toast and forgotten recipes, his kitchen a battlefield rather than a haven.
His daughter, Lily, a bright-eyed girl of eight, watched him with a mixture of amusement and concern. “Dad,” she’d say, her voice gentle, “It’s okay if it’s not perfect.” But her words, meant to comfort, only served to deepen his sense of inadequacy. He longed to recreate the magic of Sarah’s cooking, to fill the void left by her absence with the comforting aroma of home-cooked meals.
One morning, determined to surprise Lily, John decided to try his hand at heart-shaped pancakes. He watched countless online tutorials, meticulously measuring ingredients, and even invested in a heart-shaped pan. The batter, this time, was a pale golden color, smooth and even. He poured it carefully into the pan, his heart pounding with a mixture of hope and trepidation.
Lily, ever the curious observer, watched him with wide eyes. “What are you making, Daddy?” she asked, her voice filled with excitement.
“Something special,” he replied, his voice a little hoarse.
As the pancakes cooked, a wave of memories washed over him. He remembered Sarah’s laughter, her playful banter with Lily, the warmth that radiated from their kitchen. He remembered the way Lily would eagerly devour Sarah’s pancakes, her face smeared with syrup.
Finally, he flipped the pancakes, his breath catching in his throat. They were golden brown and perfectly heart-shaped. He carefully transferred them to plates, adding a generous dollop of butter and a drizzle of maple syrup.
Lily’s eyes widened as she saw the pancakes. “Wow, Daddy!” she exclaimed, her voice filled with awe. “They look just like Mommy used to make!”
John’s heart swelled. He watched as Lily took a bite, her eyes closing in delight. “It tastes like the ones Mom made!” she declared, her voice filled with happiness.
Tears welled up in John’s eyes. He knew it wasn’t perfect, that the edges were a little burnt and the syrup a bit messy. But in that moment, it didn’t matter. He had made Lily smile. He had brought a little bit of Sarah back into their lives, one delicious pancake at a time.
From that day on, John continued to cook, his kitchen slowly transforming from a battlefield into a sanctuary. He learned new recipes, experimented with flavors, and even found himself enjoying the process. He knew he would never fully replace Sarah, but he could learn to cook with love, with memory, and with the hope of creating new memories with his daughter. And that, he realized, was a gift in itself.
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