Your Sinful Father
At this hour of the night, who could it be? It can’t be Rashid. He is on a business trip. Then who?
I see a box wrapped in flowery paper foil when I open the door. It is a gift. But who sent it? There is no name written anywhere. I shut the door behind me and carry the gift into the living room.
Sitting on the sofa, I open the gift. There is an album and a letter. I set the album aside and open the letter. Maybe I will be able to learn more about this anonymous sender.
My hands begin to tremble. This handwriting, these words. It’s not possible. Why is it now, after all these years? After…
“Get out of my sight, you disgrace!”
I still remember the words he had said to me when he threw me out of the house. After that he never contacted me. Not even to see his grandson when he was born. Or when mother died. So why now, father?
It’s been so many years since I have seen you. How are you? How is Rashid? How is my grandson? What did you name him? How old is he? What was his first word, ‘Mama’ or ‘Papa’? I still remember your first word was ‘Papa’. How pleasant it sounded.
Sorry for this old man’s rambling. After your mother’s death, I have been growing more senile. So, before I start rambling again, I want to say something to you. Don’t worry, I will keep it short.
First of all, I want to apologise to you. To you, my dear daughter, whom I have wronged. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but this old man doesn’t want any misunderstanding between us. I called you disgrace. I threw you out of the house. I blindly followed society’s rules. Maybe if I hadn’t done these, your mother would be still alive. You know she missed you a lot, all the years until her death.
I digress again.
Last, but not least, I want all my wealth and property to be given to my grandson. It’s all in my will. For you, dear, I leave our photo album. Our memories, happiness, and hopes are all in there. Cherish it.
Except for the regret of not being able to see you one last time, I have no regrets. My health, however, is failing, and the doctors have told me that I just have a week remaining. I’ve spoken with my lawyer about sending this letter after I die. So, this is a farewell, I am going ahead to meet your mother.
Your sinful father.
Tears stream down my cheeks, soaking the letter. I take the photo album from my side and press it against the chest. I’d have liked to meet you, too, father.
This story was inspired by The Daily Special — Dec 5th Fiction prompt from the“Promptly Written” Publication.
Thank you Ravyne Hawke for the prompt.