Chapter 25
I was fifty-five when I received an unexpected package in the mail.
It was from Lisa.
Megan's cousin.
Inside was a box.
And a letter.
Emily,
I was cleaning out my mother's things after she passed away, and I found this. It was addressed to you. My mother said your father gave it to her many years ago, after you had left home. He told her to give it to you if anything ever happened to him. I don't know what's inside. But I thought you should have it.
Lisa
I opened the box.
Inside was a stack of letters.
And a small journal.
The letters were from my father.
Written over the years.
Never sent.
I started reading.
They were filled with regret.
With love that he had never been able to express.
With the things he had wanted to say but never had the courage to.
Emily,
You graduated from high school today. You were valedictorian. I was so proud of you I could barely breathe. But I couldn't tell you. Patricia would have been furious. She says I coddle you too much. That I need to be harder on you. But I don't want to be harder on you. I want to tell you how amazing you are. I want to tell you that I love you. But I'm weak. And I'm scared of her. So I'll just write it here. And maybe one day, you'll know.
Dad
Another one, from when I graduated from law school.
Emily,
You became a lawyer today. I always knew you would do great things. You're so smart. So strong. Nothing like Megan. I know I'm not supposed to say that. But it's true. Megan is... broken. And you're whole. You're everything a father could want. But I can't tell you that. Because if I do, Patricia will make my life hell. And she'll take it out on you even more. So I'll just keep writing these letters. And hope that one day, you'll understand.
I read them all.
Letter after letter.
Year after year.
Each one filled with the same thing.
Love he couldn't express.
Pride he couldn't show.
Weakness that kept him trapped.
Then I opened the journal.
It was my father's.
The last entry was written shortly before he died.
I've been thinking about Emily a lot lately. About everything that happened. About what we did. I know I'm going to die soon. And I know I'll go to my grave knowing that I failed my daughter. That I failed her baby. That I was too weak to stand up to my wife and protect the child who needed me most.
But I need her to know something. Even though I never said it. Even though I never showed it. I loved her. I always loved her. She was the best thing that ever happened to me. And I'm sorry. So very sorry.
If anyone ever reads this, please tell her. Tell her I loved her. Tell her I was proud of her. Tell her I'm sorry.
I closed the journal.
I cried.
For the father I had never really had.
For the love that had been there, hidden behind fear and weakness.
For the man who had loved me in his own way, but had been too broken to show it.
Nathan found me crying.
He held me.
Let me grieve.
Not for the father I had lost.
But for the father I had never gotten to know.
The one who had loved me from the shadows.
Who had been too weak to stand up for me, but who had carried me in his heart all those years.
It didn't change anything.
It didn't excuse what he had done.
It didn't bring my baby back.
But it gave me something I hadn't had before.
Closure.
Understanding.
A tiny bit of peace.
I put the letters and the journal in a box.
I kept them.
Not because I forgave him.
But because they were a part of my story.
A reminder that even the people who hurt us most can be complicated.
That monsters are sometimes just broken people who make terrible choices.
And that love, even hidden and ineffective, is still love.
I didn't tell the children about the letters.
They didn't need to know.
Their grandfather was a stranger to them.
And that was okay.
But I kept the box.
For myself.
As a reminder of how complicated life can be.
How messy.
How human.
And as a reminder to always be brave.
May you like
To always stand up for what's right.
To never let fear keep me from loving the people I love.
