So, I gave up everything for my dad, only to find out I wasnt in his willuntil I stumbled on a hidden envelope that changed everything.
I put my whole life on hold to look after him. What began as popping round a couple times a week turned into full-time care. I stopped seeing mates, gave up on dating, and slowly just stopped living for myself. Thought itd only be a few months, but those months turned into years.
Dad had always been the rock of the familystrong, reliable. Watching him get weaker broke my heart bit by bit. I made his meals, helped him wash, drove him to endless hospital appointments, and stayed up with him through those long nights when the pain kept him awake. Never resented him for itwasnt his faultbut God, it was lonely.
My brother lived up in Scotland. Hed ring now and thenmaybe once a monthbut that was about it. Always had an excuse: work, the kids, a «terrible signal.» Tried not to let it bother me, but when youre the one holding everything together, its hard not to feel a bit abandoned.
When Dad passed earlier this year, I was shattered. My whole world had revolved around him, and suddenly, he was gone. Still, I took some comfort knowing Id done everything I could. At least he knew that, I thought.
A few weeks later, we all met up for the will reading. My brother flew down, dressed in some posh suit, looking like hed rather be anywhere else. I sat quietly, holding my breath as the solicitor went through it all.
But as he read on, my name never came up. Not once. EverythingDads savings, the house, even his beloved old Land Roverwent straight to my brother.
I just sat there, numb. My brother glanced at me, awkward but smug. The solicitor gave me a polite nod, already packing up. That was it. No explanation, no note, nothing.
When I got home, I crumpled onto the sofa and cried like Id never cried before. Wasnt about the money or the houseit was the thought that Dad, the man Id given everything for, had somehow forgotten me. Maybe he hadnt even noticed all Id done.
For days, I walked around in a daze. Told myself it didnt matter, that love isnt about what you inherit, but the hurt wouldnt leave.
A week later, I started sorting through his things, packing up boxes for charity. Most of his jumpers still smelled like himaftershave, tea, a hint of that old pipe tobacco. Then I got to his bookcase. Dad loved his books. They were his pride and joy, every one filled with scribbles in the margins.
I was dusting the shelves when I pulled out his favouritea battered copy of some classic he reread every Christmas. As I opened it, something fluttered to the floor.
An envelope.
My stomach dropped when I saw the handwritinghis, but shaky. On the front, it said: *»For the one who stayed.»*
Hands trembling, I opened it. Inside was a letter and a small key.
The letter began:
*»My love,
If youre reading this, Im gone, and Im so sorry for the hurt Ive caused. It might look like I left you nothing, but dont believe that. Your brother… hes never been one for responsibility. I left him the things he could count. I left you what cant be counted.»*
Tears blurred the page. I kept reading.
*»You gave up years for me. Sat with me when no one else did, filled my last days with laughter and quiet joy. I saw it all. Just couldnt always say it. You were my strength when I had none left. The key opens the safe in the shed. Whats inside is yoursnot because you earned it, but because you stayed.»*
I wiped my eyes and went straight to the shed. Behind his old toolbox was a dusty safe Id nearly forgotten about. Hands shaking, I turned the key.
Inside were stacks of premium bonds and investment papersmore than Id ever imagined. But what undid me was the notebook.
A journalhis. The first entry was from years ago, right when he got ill. Page after page, hed written about our dayshow Id made his favourite shepherds pie when he couldnt stomach much, how Id read to him when his eyes got tired, how I always smiled even when I was exhausted.
The last entry said:
*»I hope one day theyll know how much they meant to me. Couldnt have done it without them. If love had a price, theyd have all of mine.»*
I hugged the book to my chest and sobbed. All that pain just… melted. He *had* seen me. Every sacrifice, every quiet momentnone of it went unnoticed.
That night, I sat by the window with the letter in my lap, feeling something I hadnt in agespeace. Dads last words gave me back what I thought Id lost: his love, his thanks, the certainty that those years mattered.
Whispered, *»Cheers, Dad,»* and for the first time since hed gone, I smiled.
