That day I heard a knock on the door and opened it. Jeez, it was 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 said, looking tired and worn out.
“Yeah, what do you want?” I replied coldly.
“Could I stay with you…? I don’t have a place right now, so…”
“Oh. Okay, you can. But you have to pay rent,” I said, my voice dripping with resentment.
“Seriously? Look, I don’t have any money at all… and you’re the only family I have…” he pleaded.
“I don’t care AT ALL, RIGHT?! You can live on the street! Get out!” I yelled, slamming the door in his face.
Just as I turned around, my wife Julie was standing there, shock and anger written all over her face. “Are you out of your mind?! How can you be so heartless?! IT’S YOUR DAD!” she yelled at me.
“Really, Julie?! Maybe you just don’t know the WHOLE TRUTH?! I WILL NEVER FORGIVE WHAT HE DID!“ I shouted back, my voice trembling with a mix of rage and pain.
Julie stepped closer, her expression softening. “What did he do, honey? You’ve never told me the full story.”\
I took a deep breath, the memories flooding back like a tidal wave. “When I was 12, my mom got really sick. She needed treatment, and Dad promised he’d take care of everything. But he didn’t. Instead, he gambled away all our savings. Every last cent. Mom died because we couldn’t afford the treatment she needed. And then he left. Just disappeared. Left me alone to fend for myself.”
Julie’s eyes widened, tears welling up. “I… I had no idea,” she whispered.
I sank onto the couch, burying my face in my hands. “I can’t forgive him for that. He ruined everything. And now he shows up, expecting me to help him? After all these years?”
Julie sat beside me, wrapping her arms around me. “I understand why you’re hurt. But holding onto this anger is only hurting you more. Maybe… maybe he’s changed. Maybe he’s genuinely sorry.”
I shook my head. “I don’t know if I can do it, Julie. I don’t know if I can forgive him.”
She held me tighter. “I’m not saying you have to forgive him right away. But maybe give him a chance to explain. To make things right.”
I thought about it for a long moment. The thought of giving him another chance felt like a betrayal to my mother’s memory, but Julie was right. Holding onto this bitterness had eaten away at me for years.
With a heavy sigh, I got up and opened the door. Dad was still there, sitting on the front steps, looking more defeated than I’d ever seen him.
“Come in,” I said quietly. “Let’s talk.”
He looked up, hope flickering in his eyes. “Thank you, son.”
We sat down in the living room, and for the first time in decades, we talked. He told me about his regrets, his struggles, and how he’d spent the years trying to find a way to make amends. It wasn’t an easy conversation, and it didn’t erase the past, but it was a start.
Over the next few weeks, I watched him make a genuine effort to rebuild our relationship. It wasn’t perfect, and there were days when the old anger flared up, but slowly, I began to see a different side of him. A side that was broken, but trying to heal.
In time, I realized that forgiveness wasn’t just for him—it was for me too. It was a way to let go of the pain and start living again.
And while our relationship would never be the same as it could have been, it was better than it had been for many years. It was a new beginning, a chance to heal old wounds and move forward.
