He Didn’t Attend His Wife’s Funeral and His Daughter Hated Him She Later Discovers a Shocking Truth

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Lucy had a strange relationship with her father, Oliver, but it all came to a head the day after her 18th birthday. It was the day that everything started going downhill and would lead to years of regret.

After a long journey the previous day, Oliver was resting on his couch when suddenly the door burst open and Lucy stormed in, her face contorted with rage as she walked towards her father.

“Dad, where were you yesterday?” she asked as she struggled to fight back her tears.

“I… I’m sorry, love, I was just…” Oliver stuttered. He had missed her birthday six times in a row, and this time around, Lucy was as angry as a raging bull.

“I know you’re never really present in my life, but how could you miss my 18th birthday?” Lucy exclaimed.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” Oliver was at a loss for words.

“Sorry, that’s all you ever say, but you never do the right thing. No birthday gifts or songs, it’s just another day for you. Is that how to be a dad? You’re a terrible father!” Oliver’s heart sank when he heard those words.

“Is that what you think of me? Why do you hate me so much, Lucy?” he asked, the pain evident in his voice.

Lucy was shocked by Oliver’s response; it was the first time he had said anything besides an apology. Trying to brush off her surprise, she yelled out in frustration, “Yes, I hate you! You don’t know anything about me other than my name. It’s no wonder why I’m not proud to call you my father!”

Oliver’s mouth fell open. He clenched his fists and placed a hand over his chest; he was hurt beyond words. Then, without saying anything else, he left for his room.

Using the back of her palm, Lucy wiped her tears and stormed off to her room as well. For as long as Lucy could remember, Oliver was never present in her life. Yes, he was the breadwinner of the family and provided everything they needed, but that was where it all ended.

But despite all this, there seemed to be something missing in Oliver’s life. He rarely smiled or interacted with anyone at home and spent most of his time locked up in his room. When Lucy or her mother, Sonia, tried talking to him, he would usually remain silent. It was as if he was unhappy with them.

He was always eager to get on the road, and when he went on these odd trips, he would stay out for as long as four days to one week. When he returned home, he would simply lock himself up in his room. He also never remembered special dates, birthdays, anniversaries, events, and the likes. The only thing that was always on his mind was the next trip he would take.

No one liked his lifestyle, and it hurt Sonia the most. She would always berate him, asking why he was always in a hurry to go on his annoying trips, that he had another family somewhere else. Why was he never at home to spend time with them? It got to a point where she broke down in front of him and wept profusely.

“You don’t care, you never remember anything important about us, and you don’t seem happy with us. Why do you ever come back? You should go out and be with your real family!” Sonia pleaded.

“Please, Sonia, understand me. I just need you to be patient with me,” Oliver explained.

Lucy was there as well, and she rolled her eyes at her father. “Why do you derive joy in making mom cry? Why?” she said.

“Oh dear Lucy, please don’t say so,” Oliver sadly said and tried to pull Lucy into a warm embrace. But she pushed him away and ran out of the house.

A few months before Lucy’s 18th birthday, she had told Oliver that she wanted to throw a party and that she wanted them to be present. He had promised her that he wouldn’t miss it for anything in the world, but still, he missed it. He went out a day before her birthday on one of his strange trips and didn’t return until after the birthday. What made it even worse was that he didn’t bother to call to apologize or wish her happy birthday throughout the day. Lucy waited in vain for a single word from him, not even a text to wish her a happy birthday, and that was what hurt her the most.

A few weeks later, Lucy was in her room one night studying for an upcoming exam when she heard her parents shouting at the top of their voices. From her room, she couldn’t make out the exact words being said, but it was obvious that it was a heated argument. She got up and made her way to their room. As she got closer, their words became more clearer and audible. Lucy heard her mom screaming, “Why are you doing this to me? Give it back!”

“Mom, are you okay? Is that hurting you? Open the door!” Lucy screamed, hitting the door.

When neither of them responded, Lucy flung the door open, and what she saw made her freeze. Her mom’s hair was disheveled, the floor was also littered with broken glass as if a hurricane had swept through the room.

“My God,” Lucy gasped in shock.

“That monster beat me,” Sonia groaned and pointed towards Oliver, filled with fury.

Lucy ran towards her father and grabbed him by the collar. “How could you do this to your wife? What did she ever do to you?” Struggling to breathe, Oliver freed himself from his daughter’s firm grasp and began staring at her as if he had never seen her in his life. He seemed pretty lost and confused.

Sonia then pointed at the book in his hands and firmly said, “Lucy, get me that book.”

But just before Lucy could act on her mother’s request, Oliver clutched the book to his chest and dashed out of the house into the darkness of the night.

“No, come back here!” Sonia yelled after him. But before she could take a step out of the door, an intense pain shot through her chest. She screamed and collapsed to the floor, clutching at her chest.

By the time Lucy managed to call for help and paramedics arrived at the house, it was too late. Sonia had already passed away from a fatal heart attack.

Lucy was destroyed; in one night, her life had become a nightmare. How would she live without her mother? She really wasn’t sure if she could survive without her. But one thing was clear; she wanted nothing more to do with her father.

A few days later, Sonia was buried, and Oliver didn’t show up at the funeral.

“That man had the guts to not show up at the funeral after his actions led to her death,” Lucy said to herself. As far as he was concerned, she was now an orphan; she had no father, and the only person who cared about her was now dead. She was now alone in this cold world.

Three days later, Oliver suddenly showed up at the house as if he never left. When he entered Lucy’s room, she grabbed him by the shirt.

“How dare you show your face here? You killed Mom, your troubles robbed her of life, and you didn’t even bother to come home for her funeral!

I hate you so much,” she said and spat on the floor. Afterwards, she ran into her room and packed all her things. She could no longer live with this man who was nothing but a stranger in disguise.

“You’re not my dad. I hope I never see your ugly face ever again,” she said, slamming the door in his face and left.

Lucy moved on with her life. For two years, she stayed away from Oliver; she ignored his calls and put everything about him behind her. He belonged in her past, and nothing could make her revisit such horrid times. She was relieved when he suddenly stopped calling her; perhaps he finally understood that she wanted nothing at all to do with him.

After three years, she received an unexpected call from a hospital. “Your father is in a retirement home. I’m sorry to say that he may not last much longer. Would you like to see him?”

“He can die for all I care; it’s none of my business,” she said and ended the call.

A few months passed, and Lucy decided to pay a visit to her parents’ house. She missed her mom so much; she would also seize the opportunity to pick up one or two pictures of her mom from the family album. Visiting the house seemed like a great idea since Lucy was sure her good-for-nothing dad was in a retirement home.

When she got to the house, it was untidy and dusty. She walked away and decided to check the bedroom; perhaps she would find personal pictures of Sonia there. As she made her way towards her mother’s wardrobe, she suddenly stopped beside a table that had a book on it. It was covered with dust, but she immediately recognized it; it was the same book that her mother had wanted to take from Oliver the night she had died.

Now she was curious about the book; what could be so special about it that Oliver was unwilling to let go that night? Nervously, Lucy picked up the book, blew off the dust, and opened the first page. It was a diary; her pupils dilated with fear upon reading an entry in the diary.

It read, “I forgot my beloved daughter’s birthday again. I don’t know why I keep forgetting. I think something is wrong with me. I know she thinks I hate her, but I don’t. I love her so much, even though I can’t just express myself.”

Another entry read, “Dear diary, it’s been 10 years since I have been searching for my daughter’s biological father. Sonia knows I travel often just to look for Lucy’s biological father, but she pretends as if she doesn’t know. She doesn’t want me to find Lucy’s real father. Well, today I discovered that Lucy’s biological father is dead. I’m so sad. I will do anything to make Lucy happy, but I don’t know why I keep forgetting things.”

With hearts shattered and tears streaming down her cheeks, Lucy, filled with disbelief, flipped to the next page.

“Dear diary, today I went to the hospital, and the doctors confirmed I have Alzheimer’s. Now I understand why I often forget things easily.”

Lucy took a moment to catch her breath; then she groaned in pain and turned to the next page.

“Dear diary, a week ago, my wife and I had a fight. When she tried to take my diary, she even tore her clothes and lied to my daughter that I hit her. I ran out of the house. I can’t even remember where I stayed. I returned home a few hours ago only to learn that my wife is dead. Lucy, my beloved daughter, also left. I hate my life. I will be happy the day I die.”

And then the final entry:

“Dear diary, I can’t remember a lot these days. I can’t even remember my daughter’s name, but I can see her beautiful face every time I close my eyes.”

When Lucy was done reading, she dropped to the ground, overcome with anguish. She had been completely unaware of all that her father was going through. Instead of supporting him, she made his life more difficult. She couldn’t believe her mom was the liar, the psycho; everything she thought her dad was.

Ready to make amends and beg for forgiveness, she drove to the retirement home like a drunk. When she got there, a nurse took her to Oliver’s room.

“He rarely opens his eyes these days, not even when he eats. At this rate, he’s just waiting for his last moment,” the nurse said on the way there.

Lucy rushed over to his bedside; she took his hands in hers. It was warm and frail. “Dad,” she muttered, tears burning her eyes, “it’s me.”

At the sound of her voice, Oliver’s eyes slowly opened. “Is that… it’s me. Do you know me?” she asked them softly.

As soon as Oliver saw Lucy, tears rolled down his cheeks. Lucy felt the love and longing emanating from his eyes as if he recognized her. But before she had a chance to say anything, he drifted off into sleep again.

When he woke up, however, it was as if he didn’t recognize her at all. His gaze upon her was that of a stranger.

Lucy became a regular visitor to the retirement home; she would bring all of her food. Lucy accepted the fact that Oliver would never remember her, and she chose to fill up his last days with the love and care she had denied him.

Some months later, she asked the doctors if there was a way to make Oliver remember her. They told her that there was no surefire way to do so, but old pictures could help. So Lucy turned the house upside down as she searched for old pictures, anyone at all that could have been taken before her 18th birthday. After a few days of searching, she finally found an old photo from when she was six years old.

Holding the photo tightly, Lucy drove over to the retirement home, hoping Oliver would remember her if she showed it to him. But sadly, it was too late already. When she got to the hospital, she was told that Oliver had passed away in his sleep the previous night.

This was the second time she lost someone dear, and it hurt even more because she realized all the time she could have spent with her father had been wasted over nothing. She laid her head on his bed and wept as tears streamed down her cheeks. She felt something poke her from underneath the pillow. She pulled it out to find a newer diary with only one entry inside.

Curious, she opened it up and began reading:

“Dear diary, I met a girl. She made me very happy. She’s my best friend. She never told me her name, but I will call her Lucy.”

In that moment, she realized that she had truly never introduced herself to the man who loved her until his dying breath. Even with his condition, he still named her Lucy, her real name. This convinced her that deep down somewhere, Oliver still remembered his little girl, and this was a source of comfort to her.

What a touching story! What do you think about this story? Share your thoughts in the comment section. Thank you for watching, and see you next time.

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