When Cassie returns from a getaway with her husband and son, she enters her house and sees a cryptic message from her mother: she tells her to watch a video. When you press play, your whole life changes. In the end, he wonders which of his parents deserves to be forgiven.
In my eyes, my father could not do anything wrong. It was everything I needed it to be and more. He was a businessman who was always traveling, but he made sure he had enough time for me.
“You’re my girl, Cassie,” he told me, tapping my nose with his index finger. “You’re the most special.”
A father carrying his daughter | Source: Pexels
A father carrying his daughter | Source: Pexels
My parents always went out of their way for me, making sure that, despite their tight schedules, we had dinner as a family almost every night.
It was the only thing that kept me on my feet on the ground while my two friends from school were in the middle of the complicated divorces of their parents.
“I think it’s fashionable now,” I said to my mother one day while she cut slices of banana bread after school.
Banana bread stines | Source: Unsplash
Banana bread stines | Source: Unsplash
“Cas, you can’t think that divorce is fashionable,” he laughed. “It’s devastating and traumatic, and very few families keep things up.”
“I’m just saying it’s fashionable because many children live between two homes,” I explained. “It’s one of those things we talked about in class today.”
I was fourteen years old and the world seemed more dramatic than it should be.
A smiling girl in a hoodie | Source: Pexels
A smiling girl in a hoodie | Source: Pexels
But what I didn’t know was that my words seemed like an enchantment that rested on our home.
A few weeks after that conversation, my father went on a business trip. A few hours after he had left, the news of his death arrived.
“How?” I asked. “How did he die?”
“I don’t know what to tell you, Cassie,” he replied. “I’m just telling you what the paramedics have told me.”
Two paramedics standing | Source: Pexels
Two paramedics standing | Source: Pexels
“And what are we going to do now?” I asked him.
“What do you mean?” she asked, puzzled by the question.
“For the funeral?” I asked. “Aren’t we going to make one?”
“I don’t think so,” my mother replied. “Dad wanted him to be incinerated and scattered his ashes on the beach. Let’s do that instead.”
A black and white urn | Source: Pexels
A black and white urn | Source: Pexels
I couldn’t understand why my mother would want to do that, but after all, she was the one who knew my father best. And the more I thought about it, the more beautiful and sentimental it seemed to me a private ceremony on the beach.
“Don’t get difficult, Cassie,” my mother told me when she saw me thinking about my next step.
“I don’t,” I said. “Really. I was just thinking about it. That’s a great idea, Mom.”
A road to the beach | Source: Unsplash
A road to the beach | Source: Unsplash
I could have fought with her for a farewell that would have seemed more appropriate to me. But what would it have been useful? After all, we had both lost him.
The months that followed the beach ceremony seemed heavy to me, and I knew that I was deeply depressed: my father had been our world. And his absence was felt more than anything.
But, over time, I learned to live with it.
A girl sitting on the floor and looking out the window | Source: Pexels
A girl sitting on the floor and looking out the window | Source: Pexels
Last week I decided to book a cabin in the woods for a small family vacation. My son insisted that camping was the best thing to do, and I knew that, despite the wonders of nature, I was not going to camp in a tent without a bathroom in sight.
Instead, I thought a cabin would be the best option; my husband, Derek, could camp outdoors with Drew, our son, if he insisted.
A cabin in the forest | Source: Unsplash
A cabin in the forest | Source: Unsplash
We had a dog, so I asked my mother to take care of him during the week so we could be calm, knowing that Romeo was well taken care of.
A week out was more than enough to restore my mind… and in the end, when we returned home, I was surprised to see that my mother was not there. In fact, it seemed like he had never been.
A dog lying on the grass | Source: Unsplash
A dog lying on the grass | Source: Unsplash
But there, on the table, there was a note under the TV remote control.
Look at this, Cassie. I’m sorry. – Mom
I didn’t know what awaited me, but while Derek put Drew in the bathtub, I turned on the TV and started watching whatever my mother had planned.
The TV turned on, and there was him, my father, his voice like a long-lost melody, his image aged but, even so, unmistakably him.
A person holding the remote control of a television | Source: Unsplash
A person holding the remote control of a television | Source: Unsplash
I burst into tears when I realized that I was still alive and I felt wrapped in a mixture of joy and disbelief.
The message of the video was little less than unpredictable.
My dear Cassie, I’m still here, alive. I’m very sorry for the pain you may have felt for my loss. But it was necessary. It was necessary to leave your life because of the sordid truth of my past. Your mother knows everything, please ask her the truth.
My health is in a constant decline, and I would love to see you and explain everything to you.
An old man | Source: Pexels
An old man | Source: Pexels
Without saying anything to Derek or Drew, I took the car keys and ran out. I needed my mother to explain it to me.
“I’m sure you have questions for me,” he said, opening the door.
“Explain everything to me,” I said.
“Cassie, it’s heavy. You seem tired from your trip; are you sure you want to do this now?” he asked.
I nodded my head. It was now or never. I needed to know why my father faked his own death to get out of our lives.
My mother made us a tea and took out some cookies.
Butter cookies on a plate | Source: Unsplash
Butter cookies on a plate | Source: Unsplash
“Honey,” he said. “I’ll understand if you don’t forgive me, but there are many things about that time that I need to tell you.”
I took a sip of the tea, trying to understand what my mother was about to tell me.
“I remember you telling me that your friend’s parents had divorced. Do you remember?” he asked.
I nodded my head. Of course. It was the strangest thing, but it was something very common when I went to school.
“Well, your father and I weren’t legally married. So when I told him about our conversation about the divorce, he felt relieved. Without being married, there would be no divorce.”
A marriage certificate | Source: Unsplash
A marriage certificate | Source: Unsplash
“What’s the problem?” I asked him.
“Then I found out that the real reason we didn’t get married was that your father was already married to another woman.”
“What?” I exclaimed, almost dropping the cup. “With whom?”
“With a woman from the town where he always made his business trips.”
“Didn’t you know?” I asked, unable to believe his words.
A couple showing off their wedding rings | Source: Unsplash
A couple showing off their wedding rings | Source: Unsplash
“Of course not!” he exclaimed. “But when I pressured him about it, he decided to choose that family before us. So I told him that the story was going to be his death.”
We both stayed quiet for a moment.
It turns out that my mother told him that she would never tell me the truth, not when he was my favorite person. She couldn’t burst my bubble like that. And he refused to see me one more time.
“It was better that you thought it had been an accident,” my mother said. “It made more sense.”
Now I understood why we didn’t have a funeral for him.
“What do we throw into the sea, then?” I asked.
“Dust,” he replied with a serious face.
A cloud of dust | Source: Unsplash
A cloud of dust | Source: Unsplash
My mother had talked to him twice over the years. The second time was a day ago.
During their meeting, my father confessed to him his imminent death from illness and asked him to give me the recording. My mother, torn by guilt and love, chose to write me the note and have the recording ready for me to see.
“He would have taken the secret to my grave,” he said. “But knowing that I was sick and that I wanted to see you made me feel something.”
A cemetery | Source: Pexels
A cemetery | Source: Pexels
Forced by the need to face the reality of my father’s existence, I traveled to the state where he lived with his other family.
I spent a few weeks with my father: entering and leaving hospitals, watching how he took a series of different medications and how he weakened day by day.
Sitting next to his bed, I listened to his stories, the remorse, the moments of joy and the love he felt for all his children, including me.
When things started to go downhill, I asked Derek to fly with Drew. It was going to be a fleeting moment, but at least I would know that my son had met my father.
A sick old man | Source: Pexels
A sick old man | Source: Pexels
A few days later, my father died.
Even now, I don’t know if I’ve forgiven him the lie of having a double life. I only know that, in the end, when the time came, I wanted to spend time with him. I had put my feelings aside, hoping to have memories that I could decipher later.
But now that the dust has settled, I try to find out if I should forgive my mother for lying.
