Hello everyone!!!!!!!!!!!! Thank you so much for stopping by to read my story!!!!!! Any feedback you guys have is greatly appreciated! I do have a few questions: is the story too depressing? Was the ending done too quickly? Also, I never named the son and father. So, if you guys have name suggestions for the son and/or father please suggest them. (P.S. this is my first mock cover that I designed, so I hope you like it. 🙂 ) Okay, without further ado . . . “A Second Chance”!!!!!!!!!
“A Second Chance”
I lay in bed awake, thinking. It was nearing midnight, and I couldn’t sleep. The events of the day had taken a toll on me. I climbed out of bed and went into my father’s bedroom. Except, he wasn’t there. He was still in the hospital. Earlier today when I had come home from work, I found him on the floor, unconscious. He had had a stroke.
I lingered around in his room, a million thoughts running through my head. Would Dad recover from this? Would I ever get to speak to him again?
I remembered back to an argument we had a couple of years ago:
“Why don’t you pursue a career in writing?” Dad had asked me. “You’re really good with words.”
“No. I don’t want a writing career,” I told him.
“Why not? It’s something you enjoy doing.”
“I don’t like writing.”
“If you didn’t like it, why have you spent so much time doing it?” I didn’t answer his question. “Son, if you would just listen to me, I think you would be happy in a writing career.”
“I don’t want to be like you!” I suddenly yelled, ending the argument.
I exhaled, feeling a deep sense of remorse. Why did I spend all those years in opposition against my dad? Why did I waste my days with him engaged in arguments? I was so blind. Now, I realize Dad wasn’t trying to make me be like him. He was trying to encourage me in something that I actually really did enjoy.
We only had each other through all my life and yet, we were so alone. If I were given a second chance, I would truly change and try to mend our broken relationship.
I sat down at Dad’s desk where he did his own writing. And for the first time in a very long time, I wrote.
I wrote as if it were a letter to Dad, telling him of how much I loved him. I wrote how grateful I was that he stood by me all these years and never once turned against me. I wrote of my broken heart and how I knew it was time for love to heal our division.
And since that day I never once stopped doing what I loved doing.
I was given a second chance when Dad woke up in the hospital a couple of days later. We cried together as he read my letter. I was thankful that Dad was alright, and he was glad to hear I had picked up my writing again.
“I love you, son,” Dad had said.
“I love you, too, Dad.”
That was the start to healing our broken relationship.