When Cara returns to her estranged father’s house after his death, she expects only dust and old memories. Instead, she finds her teenage diary and her father’s heartfelt, handwritten replies. As buried regrets surface, Cara faces the father she thought she knew… and discovers healing can come… even after goodbye.
I hadn’t spoken to my father in six years when the call came.
“Cara, I’m sorry,” Greta, the attorney handling his estate, said softly. “Your father passed away in his sleep. Someone needs to handle the house.”
A woman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney
I stared at my phone long after she hung up.
Not because I was grieving. Not because I was in shock.
But because, deep down, I didn’t know if I even wanted to go back.
A pensive woman sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney
Philip and I never had the kind of relationship people write tribute posts about.
He wasn’t cruel. Not in the way stories warn you about. But he was never warm, either.
He was the dad who bought bikes for Christmas but forgot birthdays in July. The dad who clapped the loudest at swim meets but never remembered my best friend’s name, even after years of introductions.
An older man standing on a balcony | Source: Midjourney
He was there, technically. But only ever at arm’s length.
When I was 13, everything shattered. He cheated on my mom. Left us for someone younger, shinier, and louder. The cliché hurt more than anything else. Not just because he left but because he seemed so easily replaceable, like our life together was disposable.
After the divorce, contact became rare and awkward.
An upset girl | Source: Midjourney
A lunch here. A too-late birthday text there. I learned to stop expecting him to show up. By college, even those breadcrumbs faded.
We drifted like strangers connected only by DNA. And the last time we spoke was six years ago. It ended badly. I mean, of course, it did.
My father, Philip, accused me of being ungrateful, his voice sharp with frustration.
A smiling older man | Source: Midjourney
