Hidden In The Music

“He’s gone, he’s just gone. You don’t need to come.”

These are the words that Karen, my stepmother spoke to me minutes after my father died. I was driving frantically to the hospital in a vain attempt to see him before he passed but since I lived an hour away my efforts were too little, too late.

“I’m almost there, I’ll come to see you anyway.” I told her.

By the time I pulled into town Karen was back in her home and we visited, speaking of my dad/her husband of almost 30 years, sharing tears and memories. As I turned to go, Karen suddenly pulled me back to face her, looked me in the eyes and said, “Your father really did love you, in his heart.”

What on earth did she mean “in his heart”? That’s the sort of thing you say to someone who has been mistreated or spoken ill of, as in “Oh, he didn’t mean to hurt you, he really does love you, in his heart.”. But for her to say it to me in regard to my father, who I knew loved me, seemed very strange and I just chalked it up to the weird things people say and do when they’re grieving…

Shortly afterward my brothers and I were allowed to go through Dad’s things. It turned out that he had hardly any personal possessions so sorting his belongings took only a few hours from start to finish. The most important thing to me was his music – my dad loved to play his guitar, sing and write worship songs for church. I carefully gathered up every scrap of musical-looking paper in order to take it all home with me, along with at least a dozen cassette tapes – apparently my father was not shy about recording himself – a large, wooden crate full of lose paper; multiple spiral bound notebooks and one small, black, Moleskine notebook. I put it all in my trunk and drove the hour home, thinking about the relatively few memories I had been able to make with my dad over my 47 years.

Looking back at our last few years together in particular, I had such regrets! Just over three years before he passed I had moved from another state to be near my dad, to try and get to know him better and I had high hopes of finally building an actual relationship between us since my whole life we had been on friendly terms but not close.

Dad and Karen let me sleep on a couch in their basement “temporarily” with the understanding that I would find my own place – but that was far easier said than done. My time was primarily spent between trying to find a place to live, going back and forth to attend school full-time (with a one-hour drive each way) and working multiple part-time jobs, leaving me only a few moments here and there to spend with my fatherf.

It took five months before I found housing and while I was grateful that it was near the school and therefore eliminated the one-hour commute every morning and evening I was sad that it was farther away from Dad. After I moved, I was lucky to see him once a month and we quickly fell back into our previous pattern of being related strangers.

To this day I feel like I failed in my efforts to get to know my father better.

Two weeks after going through Dad’s things I learned he had a will. I went to Karen’s house to pick up my copy of it, not expecting to find anything life-changing. I knew Dad didn’t have money stashed away anywhere, we had already been through his belongings (there was nothing of real value there) and I doubted he even had a life insurance policy so I mostly read it out of curiosity – and was completely blindsided to discover that my father did not to acknowledge me as his child at all!

In the will Dad very clearly stated that he had two children, not three, and then only listed the names of my two brothers. Turns out it didn’t matter in any financial way as he excluded my brothers from his will and left everything of value to our step-sister, Karen’s only daughter. But if he wasn’t going to leave anything to his own children anyway why not at least list my name along with my brothers?

Disowned, lost, confused and completely devastated – I didn’t have the faintest idea of why he would do such a thing. Was I not his biological child? Was he just very angry at me for something? I agonized over the why until I nearly drove myself mad.

During those horrible days I couldn’t face going through Dad’s music, so I put it all aside… until yesterday.

Yesterday I pulled my big-girl panties up, painted a brave face on and had my first go at looking through the myriad of musical papers Dad left behind. I sat at my piano and flipped through page after page of the loose sheet music, recognizing many of the songs and even playing through a few.

After about an hour I found the small black notebook that had been wedged between sheets of music and opened it for the first time. Much to my surprise, on the first page was a hand-written letter addressed to me! It looked like it had been written quickly, almost scribbled and not in my dad’s normally neat handwriting. My pulse raced as I began to read:

“Dear Daughter,

I want you to know that no matter may have happened up to this point, and in spite of what you might have read elsewhere, I am your father and I love you very much.

You are my firstborn child, a ray of sunshine brought into this world by a miracle and watching you grow up made my heart happy! I was so pleased when I realized you had a gift for music, like me, even at an early age, and I was incredibly proud of you when you sang with me at church in front of the entire congregation without a trace of stage fright – in spite of being so young – you were amazing!

When your mom left me, moved two states away and took you and your brothers with her, I felt like I had been punched in the gut and the loss of my marriage and my children was a wound I never completely healed from. I know that has affected our relationship for all these years and I am truly sorry.

When you were in Junior High and I hitchhiked 200 miles each way to see you as often as I could, and I loved learning more about your skills and interests as you grew up. After each visit I told all my friends about you and the things you were learning, I was so excited to be your dad, always!

Once you became an adult, you married and had two beautiful girls – my first grandchildren – and I discovered I loved being a grandfather! I could not get enough of seeing those precious girls and I wished that we lived closer.

Fast-forward 20 years and we do live closer because you left a successful life and your home in another state to be near me! There are no words to express how happy that made me and how grateful I was to be able to spend more time with you. Those 5 months you lived with us before you found your own place were one of the best times of my life and I enjoyed every moment we had together.

After you moved out, we were both busy people and once again farther apart. I know we never became as close as either of us wanted to be, but I am hoping that you will find this small black notebook and realize I love you, I have always loved you, no matter what. You are my cherished daughter; I am proud of you and I have been honored to be your father. It is my greatest regret that we did not make time to grow our relationship stronger and I hope you can forgive me for not starting that process in person.

To give you a tangible token of my love and help you remember me as Good Dad instead of how Wounded Me left things, if you contact the company listed below you will find that you are the beneficiary of a life insurance policy worth $20,000. I hope it will help you move forward in life and that you will always believe I was incredibly happy and proud to be your father.

I love you so very much,

Dad.”

My eyes filled with tears as I bowed my head and clutched the small black notebook to my heart. Healing flowed through me and I sobbed with relief. My dad loved me. I am his child.

I’ll never know why he wrote his will the way he did but this, this small black notebook has now become my most prized possession and the will doesn’t even matter anymore. My soul is whole again.