I grew up believing that my father blamed me for my mother\u2019s death but the truth was heartbreaking.<\/p>\n
I never knew my mother, and my father never spoke about her. All I knew was that she had been very beautiful, because of the picture that hung on my father\u2019s study wall, and that she had died very young.<\/p>\n
My father was a sad man, a quiet and distant man. I wanted him to notice me, and to love me, but he never did. He rarely spoke to me beyond the perfunctory hello and goodbye, good morning and goodnight. I would have given anything for him to sweep me into his arms and tell me he loved me.<\/p>\n
This strange and strained relationship with my father continued until I was 18, and by then I was a sad and lonely young woman who believed my father hated me. If my father didn\u2019t love me, who would?<\/p>\n
But the answer to all my questions was about to be delivered in the most painful and cruel way. My father was hosting a party for his business associates, and among them was a woman whom I knew slightly.<\/p>\n
If you don\u2019t leave the past behind you, you deny yourself a future.
\nI had the feeling that she and my father had a past together \u2014 or at least that she wished they did. She greeted me and we started chatting \u2014 inconsequential talk about nothing special \u2014 and my father walked by.<\/p>\n
I gave him my best smile, but he immediately glanced away. The woman saw it all. \u201cDo you know why?\u201d she asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy what?\u201d I asked, confused.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy he hates you,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n
\u201cMy father doesn\u2019t hate me!\u201d I exclaimed. \u201cHe\u2019s just not a very demonstrative man.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSo you don\u2019t know\u2026\u201d she smiled. It was the ugliest smile I\u2019d ever seen. I was about to walk away when she said, \u201cHe believes you killed your mother, Karen.\u201d<\/p>\n
I stopped in my tracks. \u201cWhat?\u201d I gasped.<\/p>\n
\u201cYour mother died giving birth to you, surely you know that?\u201d she said.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo\u2026\u201d I answered. \u201cNo, I didn\u2019t know.\u201d I turned my back on her and went looking for my grandmother, my father\u2019s mother, the woman who\u2019d raised me and never told me about my mother\u2019s death.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow did my mother die?\u201d I asked her angrily. \u201cWas it in childbirth?\u201d<\/p>\n
My grandmother shook her head. \u201cPlease Karen, your father asked me never to speak of this with you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI have the right to know about my own mother!\u201d I cried. \u201cI have the right to know why my father hates me!\u201d<\/p>\n
Then a quiet angry voice behind me said, \u201cI don\u2019t hate you, Karen, but your mother\u2019s death is none of your business:\u201d<\/p>\n
I turned to face my father. \u201cMy mother\u2019s death is none of my business? You\u2019re wrong! I killed her, didn\u2019t I? That\u2019s what you think each time you look at me!\u201d<\/p>\n
The expression in his eyes sent me running out of the door. I got into my car and drove aimlessly, tears running down my face. In my distress, I didn\u2019t see the oncoming car changing lanes until it was too late.<\/p>\n
I woke up in the hospital linked to a beeping machine, with a dull promise of pain twinging through my whole body. Sitting by my side and holding my hand was my father.<\/p>\n
\u201cKaren,\u201d he said softly, \u201cThank God you\u2019re alright!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDaddy\u2026\u201d I whispered, \u201cyou\u2019re here!\u201d<\/p>\n
Tears came into his eyes. \u201cOf course I\u2019m here. I don\u2019t hate you, Karen. I love you. And I don\u2019t blame you for your mother\u2019s death, I blame myself. When your mom and I married we were very poor.<\/p>\n
\u201cAll we had were dreams and our love for each other. Then she fell pregnant and I took on a second job. I knew we\u2019d need the money when you came along. I was working 16-hour days and she spent a lot of time alone.<\/p>\n
\u201cSo one day when I came home she wasn\u2019t there. A neighbor had taken her to the hospital. When I got there it was all over. Your mother had died, and I hadn\u2019t been there for her.<\/p>\n
\u201cI didn\u2019t blame you, Karen, I blamed myself. I was determined I wasn\u2019t going to fail you the way I\u2019d failed her, so I threw myself into my work, and I became a rich man.<\/p>\n
\u201cDaddy, how could you blame yourself?\u201d I asked. \u201cThere was nothing you could have done!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI could have been there, holding her hand the way I\u2019m holding yours now,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
\u201cBut daddy\u2026\u201d I hesitated, \u201cyou were always so angry with me, so cold. You ran away from me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cKaren, you look just like your mother, and each time I looked at you, my heart was torn apart by grief and guilt. It took nearly losing you to make me realize what I\u2019d done. I love you.\u201d<\/p>\n
For the first time in my life, my father put his arms around me and showed me that he loved me. It was a new beginning for both of us, and I like to believe my mother was smiling down from heaven.<\/p>\n
What can we learn from this story?<\/p>\n
If you don\u2019t leave the past behind you, you deny yourself a future. Karen\u2019s father was so lost in his pain that he nearly lost the opportunity to have a wonderful relationship with his daughter.
\nThe truth can heal old wounds and open the way to a new beginning. It was only after Karen and her father spoke about their estrangement that they could move past their misunderstandings.<\/p>\n
Share this story with your friends. It might brighten their day and inspire them.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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