ILast Saw My Daughter 13 Years Ago, Yesterday I Got a Letter from My Grandson I Never Knew About
When my wife left me for another guy thirteen years ago, I lost my kid. I received a letter addressed to “Grandpa Steve” yesterday, and upon reading what had transpired, my heart almost stopped.
Thirteen years. It had been that long since I had seen Alexandra, my daughter. My ex-wife, Carol, left when she was just 13 years old. My age was 37.
The day seems like it was yesterday to me. Carol was waiting for me at the kitchen table, completely composed, on a sweltering, muggy July evening when I got home from work.
I was only a Chicago construction foreman at the time. Although we weren’t a large enterprise, we developed everything from office buildings to roadways. With long days, sweltering summers, and bitterly cold winters, I toiled tirelessly.
Although the employment wasn’t very exciting, it was enough to cover all of the expenses. The business was owned by Richard, my boss. He always wore expensive suits, was older than me, and had a phony smile that bothered me.
The man enjoyed flaunting his wealth. He hosted parties at his enormous estate outside of town and drove fancy automobiles. My wife, Carol, devoured that information. She enjoyed dressing up and acting as though she belonged to that group. In the meantime, those things always made me feel completely out of my element.
But maybe I could have predicted my wife’s next move if I had been more attentive.
As if reading from a script, she continued, “Steve, this just isn’t working anymore,” in a clipped voice.
Bewildered, I blinked at her. “What are you talking about?”
She gave a little sigh. “I’m heading out. I’ve fallen in love with Richard. I am bringing Alexandra along. She deserves to live a better life.
The expression “better life” still enrages me. To make sure Carol and Alexandra had everything they needed, I worked even harder than other people. We had food on the table, clothing to wear, and a respectable suburban Chicago home. It wasn’t fancy, of course.
Even if we didn’t have expensive clothes or vacations, it was more than many others had. What was wrong with it was beyond me. But Carol always want more—more wealth, more luxuries, more of everything.
My life was destroyed as a result of her leaving to live with my boss. I nevertheless made an effort to raise my daughter well. However, Carol turned her against me. I think she told her that I had cheated on her and that I didn’t care about her.
I’m not sure. I do know that my daughter ultimately stopped returning my calls and reading my correspondence. To her, I had vanished.
Regretfully, my bad luck didn’t stop there. Before I found myself in a hospital bed, undergoing operation after surgery, I had fallen into a deep despair and neglected my health. I had to sell my house because the medical bills were so exorbitant.
I eventually lost my job because I took too many vacation days, but it was a good thing that I wasn’t working for Richard anymore.
Carol and my former boss moved out of state during this time, and my Alexandra was permanently gone.
Slowly the years passed. I never got married again. I had no desire to. Rather, I put a lot of effort into becoming well again and concentrated on starting my own construction company. I was able to regain a stable, albeit lonely, existence after that.
I was financially independent at fifty and lived in a good apartment. However, there were numerous times when I wished my daughter had returned.
Then, yesterday, something occurred that really rocked me. I discovered a note in my mailbox written by a child, but they must have had assistance from an adult to write it.
Inscribed on the front was “For Grandpa Steve.”
I just stared at it for a while. My hands began to shake. Grandfather? I wasn’t a grandfather. I didn’t believe I was, however. The first line almost made my heart stop when I ripped the envelope open.
“Hello, Grandfather! Adam is my name. I’m six years old! Regretfully, you are the sole remaining member of my family.
Without giving it any thought, I made my way back inside and settled down on the couch to finish reading the letter. Adam had written everything in these large, crooked letters, albeit he had assistance with a few of the sentences.
I smiled until I learned that his mother, Alexandra, had mentioned me in passing and that he resided in a group home in St. Louis.
His final words were, “Please come find me.”
Naturally, I had purchased the earliest available ticket to St. Louis.
That night, I didn’t get any sleep. How was I able to? My mind was racing with questions. How was my grandchild born? Alexandra was where? He was in a house, but why?
I was at the airport early the following morning, and a few hours later, I was stepping out of a taxi.
It read St. Anne’s Children’s Home and was a simple brick structure with chipping paint and a drooping awning. I was greeted in the lobby by Mrs. Johnson. She had a gentle voice, gentle eyes, and was about my age.
She said, “You must be Steve,” and shook my hand. “Adam’s been waiting for you.”
“Where is he? Is he my grandson, indeed? I didn’t care that my voice cracked.
“I’ll let you meet him soon,” she whispered softly as she led me inside her headquarters. “But first, you must understand something. Have a seat, please.
My life changed in that small room, surrounded with child images and crammed with folders.
Mrs. Johnson first attested to Adam’s status as Alexandra’s son. She said that just a few months prior, on the day my daughter gave up custody of him, she had personally greeted them.
Mrs. Johnson gave me a detailed account of the whole incident. After Carol expelled Alexandra for becoming pregnant at the age of 20 without a husband, her life had completely gone apart. Naturally, the father had gone.
After that, my daughter made an effort to make ends meet by working at low-paying jobs and raising Adam in a small apartment. She then met David, a wealthy man, a year ago, who assured her that her life would improve. He didn’t want someone else’s child, though.
Mrs. Johnson stated, “That’s why she left him here,” She expressed her wish that he would find a suitable home. Despite raising him for so many years, I don’t think mom knew how to love him. It’s truly tragic.
I felt sick to my stomach. Alexandra had left her own child behind. My Alexandra? How did this happen? Then I understood what had transpired. She exchanged her six years of a life filled with hardship for a wealthy man. similar to her mom. Although it wasn’t exactly equal, the circumstances were nearly equal.
She had learned it from Carol.
“And Adam?” My voice was hoarse as I asked. “How does he know about me?”
Mrs. Johnson gave a small smile. “He is a bright young man. It seems that he had heard your name when Alexandra was talking to other people. He even discovered an old journal in which you were referenced. He informed me he had a grandfather named Steve when she left him here. I looked around and came across you. After that, we collaborated to write the letter.
Still in shock, I nodded, but Mrs. Johnson got up and went to the door. She grinned and said, “You know everything,” Adam is in the playground outside. Do you feel prepared to meet him?
With my heart hammering in my ears, I nodded and followed her.
Adam had large blue eyes that resembled Alexandra’s, shaggy brown hair, and a petite build for his age. He gazed up at me with interest and a hint of timidity while holding a toy truck in one hand.
“Hi,” he murmured.
“Hi, Adam,” I said, maintaining a steady tone. To get us at eye level, I knelt. “I’m your grandpa.”
Immediately, his eyes grew wide, and a broad smile appeared on his face. “You’re finally here!” He leaped to his feet and embraced me. “I knew you’d come!”
As I held my grandson for the first time, I reflected on my life. I was free to despise Carol. Furthermore, that rage would likely grow even more intense given that my daughter had somehow become more like her mother.
However, it was time to concentrate on the important things. In my arms was my grandson, who, like me, had been abandoned. This was the end of that cycle. Adam had no intention of growing up feeling unloved or unwelcome. What it required didn’t matter to me. I was planning to provide a home for him.
Mrs. Johnson grinned when I told her a few minutes later that I wanted Adam to accompany me. She had tears in her eyes, but I didn’t say anything about it.
Before I could bring Adam back to Chicago, there was going to be some paperwork and some waiting. However, Mrs. Johnson was sure that if I underwent a DNA test to show that I am his grandpa, there would be no problems.
I said I will do that as soon as possible.
To be honest, the way life operates is peculiar. My daughter passed away thirteen years ago. I believed that I had lost everything. Now that I had a grandchild, however, everything in my life made sense.