All My Life My Father Blamed Me for My Mother’s Passing, Then He Gets Taught a Lesson – Story of the Day

I grew up believing that my father blamed me for my mother’s death but the truth was heartbreaking.

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’s study wall, and that she had died very young.

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.

The shadow of my mother's death followed me my whole life | Source: Shutterstock.com

The shadow of my mother’s death followed me my whole life | Source: Shutterstock.com

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’t love me, who would?

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.

If you don’t leave the past behind you, you deny yourself a future.

I had the feeling that she and my father had a past together — or at least that she wished they did. She greeted me and we started chatting — inconsequential talk about nothing special — and my father walked by.

I gave him my best smile, but he immediately glanced away. The woman saw it all. “Do you know why?” she asked.

I grew up feeling that my father hated me | Source: Unsplash

I grew up feeling that my father hated me | Source: Unsplash

“Why what?” I asked, confused.

“Why he hates you,” she said.

“My father doesn’t hate me!” I exclaimed. “He’s just not a very demonstrative man.”

“So you don’t know…” she smiled. It was the ugliest smile I’d ever seen. I was about to walk away when she said, “He believes you killed your mother, Karen.”

One day at a party someone told me the truth | Source: Unsplash

One day at a party someone told me the truth | Source: Unsplash

I stopped in my tracks. “What?” I gasped.

“Your mother died giving birth to you, surely you know that?” she said.

“No…” I answered. “No, I didn’t know.” I turned my back on her and went looking for my grandmother, my father’s mother, the woman who’d raised me and never told me about my mother’s death.

“How did my mother die?” I asked her angrily. “Was it in childbirth?”

My mother had died in childbirth | Source: Pexels

My mother had died in childbirth | Source: Pexels

My grandmother shook her head. “Please Karen, your father asked me never to speak of this with you.”

“I have the right to know about my own mother!” I cried. “I have the right to know why my father hates me!”

Then a quiet angry voice behind me said, “I don’t hate you, Karen, but your mother’s death is none of your business:”

I turned to face my father. “My mother’s death is none of my business? You’re wrong! I killed her, didn’t I? That’s what you think each time you look at me!”

My father blamed me for her death | Source: Unsplash

My father blamed me for her death | Source: Unsplash

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’t see the oncoming car changing lanes until it was too late.

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.

“Karen,” he said softly, “Thank God you’re alright!”

“Daddy…” I whispered, “you’re here!”

Tears came into his eyes. “Of course I’m here. I don’t hate you, Karen. I love you. And I don’t blame you for your mother’s death, I blame myself. When your mom and I married we were very poor.

“All we had were dreams and our love for each other. Then she fell pregnant and I took on a second job. I knew we’d need the money when you came along. I was working 16-hour days and she spent a lot of time alone.

“So one day when I came home she wasn’t there. A neighbor had taken her to the hospital. When I got there it was all over. Your mother had died, and I hadn’t been there for her.

The accident nearly cost me my life | Source: Pexels

The accident nearly cost me my life | Source: Pexels

“I didn’t blame you, Karen, I blamed myself. I was determined I wasn’t going to fail you the way I’d failed her, so I threw myself into my work, and I became a rich man.

“Daddy, how could you blame yourself?” I asked. “There was nothing you could have done!”

“I could have been there, holding her hand the way I’m holding yours now,” he said.

“But daddy…” I hesitated, “you were always so angry with me, so cold. You ran away from me.”

My father and I were reconciled | Source: Unsplash

My father and I were reconciled | Source: Unsplash

“Karen, 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’d done. I love you.”

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.

What can we learn from this story?

  • If you don’t leave the past behind you, you deny yourself a future. Karen’s father was so lost in his pain that he nearly lost the opportunity to have a wonderful relationship with his daughter.
  • The 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.

Share this story with your friends. It might brighten their day and inspire them.

If you enjoyed this story, you might like this one about a man who left his widowed mother homeless.

This account is inspired by our reader’s story but written by a professional writer. All names have been changed to protect identities and ensure privacy. Share your story with us, maybe it will change someone’s life.

My Wife Left Me and Our Children After I Lost My Job – Two Years Later, I Accidentally Met Her in a Café, and She Was in Tears

My wife abandoned me and our children two years ago, at a time when things were at their worst.

When Anna stormed out of our apartment with nothing but a suitcase and the cold, “I can’t do this anymore,” I was left standing there with our four-year-old twins, Max and Lily.

We were a family for one minute, then I was alone with two kids and a mountain of expenses.

I was a software programmer at a computer business that promised great profits, but some shady things transpired, and it went bankrupt before we realized it. I went from earning a six-figure salary to receiving unemployment checks overnight.

For illustrative purposes only.

I could see the disappointment in Anna’s eyes the day I delivered her the news. She was a marketing executive and one of the most presentable women I’d ever seen. But I never imagined she would depart during difficult times.

I drove for ride-sharing businesses at night and delivered groceries during the day.

All the while, I was juggling childcare. Max and Lily were upset and kept asking about their mother.

Fortunately, my parents were close. They assisted with the twins at night and whenever I needed them, but they were unable to assist financially.

Max and Lily, however, were my lifeline. Their little arms around me at the end of a long day, their tiny voices whispering, “We love you, Daddy,” pushed me forward. I couldn’t let them down.

I’m glad the second year after Anna went was so different. I got a freelance coding project, and the customer was so impressed with my skills that he offered me full-time remote employment with his cybersecurity firm.

For illustrative purposes only.

The salary wasn’t six figures, but it was stable. We relocated to a cozier apartment, and I began to care for myself again. I went to the gym, cooked nutritious meals, and set a routine for the kids.

And then, exactly two years later, I saw Anna again.

While Max and Lily were at preschool, I was at a café near our new home catching up on work.

She sat alone at a corner table, head down, tears streaming down her cheeks.

This woman appeared worn. Her coat had faded, her hair was dull, and the heavy circles under her eyes indicated a lack of sleep.

So what happened? Why was she crying in a random trendy coffee shop? I knew I shouldn’t care. I should ignore her, finish my drink, and leave right away. But she was, after all, the mother of my kids.

For illustrative purposes only.

Her eyes met mine, and her expression changed from sh0ck to humiliation.

Leaving my cup and laptop on the table, I approach the woman who had broken our home.

“You left us. You walked out without any remorse. And now, two years later, I find you crying in a café? What’s going on?”

Her head shook again. “I can’t explain it, but leaving you was so wrong. I lost my job almost immediately after. I survived on my savings; my parents sent me some money, but they cut me off after a few months. The people I thought were my friends disappeared when I needed them most.”

“I miss you,” she croaked, sniffling. “I want to come back.”

Anna reached across the table, her hand hovering close to mine. “David, please. I know I don’t deserve it, but I’ll do anything to make it right. I’ve been living in cheap apartments, hopping from one temp job to another. I’ve had time to think. I realize now what I lost.”

I pulled my hand back. “You didn’t think about Max and Lily, did you? Not once in two years. In fact, you haven’t even mentioned them since I sat down.”

I became increasingly disgusted as I reflected on the situation.

For illustrative purposes only.

“Please, David. Just give me a chance.”

I stood, turning my back to her. “No,”

I returned to my table, snatched up my laptop, and left.

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