The Call That Brought Me Back to the Man I Once Called Dad

Waking Up Different

When I woke, pain radiated through my side, sharp but manageable. A nurse reassured me gently. The procedure had gone well. Richard was stable.

Hours later, I was allowed to see him.

He looked smaller than I remembered. Fragile, yet peaceful. Tubes and monitors surrounded him, but his breathing was steady.

When his eyes opened and found me, he smiled.

Not politely.

Not awkwardly.

But warmly.

“I’ve missed you,” he said softly.

Everything I’d been holding back collapsed at once. Tears came freely, without control.

“I thought you didn’t want me anymore,” I whispered.

He shook his head slowly. “I just didn’t know how to fix what I broke.”

I took his hand. It was warm. Alive.

“I never stopped caring,” I said.

His fingers tightened gently around mine.