During the burial of my brother, I prepared myself for sorrow rather than discoveries. Nevertheless, things changed when a letter that had been sealed was discovered among his stuff. My perception of our family was completely destroyed when he finally admitted something that had been repressed for a very long time. The things that he wrote not only stayed with me, but they also compelled me to reconsider all that I believed I understood about my historical background.
During the morning of my brother’s burial, the sky was filled with a dense blanket of dark clouds. The dreary, lifeless gray that begins to dig into your bones, numbs your fingertips, and causes the stillness that surrounds you to seem like it is deafening itself.
While I was crammed in between my parents, I stood rigidly in the front of the little chapel. When I moved, the heels I was wearing caused a pinching sensation, and my black coat felt like it was too tight. The ache, however, was irrelevant. Not right now.
Adam, my brother, hadn’t returned.
The chapel was completely packed. A few individuals shed tears in a quiet manner. Others sat in silence, their faces expressionless as they were preoccupied with their own thoughts. On the opposite side of me, my mother was sitting still and unmoving, clenching a crumpled piece of tissue that she had never used before.
“Moe… “Are you feeling okay?” In a soft whisper, I said.
She did not look in my direction. “I’m doing well, Nora. Simply worn out.”
However, she was not happy. Her appearance was… strange in some way. At a distance.
My father leaned over to my uncle, who was sitting in the second row, and whispered something to him. Following the moment that he attracted my attention, he abruptly turned his head, as if I had seen something that I was not intended to see.
That didn’t sit quite right. It wasn’t simply Adam who was the source of the grief in the room. Underneath, there was something significant. Uncertainty was present.
I saw that my mother and father were briefly glancing at me before immediately turning their attention elsewhere.
Rachel, Adam’s wife, was seated a few seats ahead of us, and her shoulders were shaking very slightly. Not at all, she was not acting. Her sorrow was genuine; it was unfiltered and unrefined, the type that fell out without care for the people who were seeing it. Because of it, I started crying. What about the speeches? It is not the tunes. To see her breaking down in such a manner.
Following the conclusion of the ceremony, individuals silently exited the building, giving handshakes, embraces, or perhaps nothing at all. To be honest, I hardly really noticed who said what. My feet moved without my intervention.
I went outside and discovered a peaceful location in the parking lot of the cemetery, which was under an old maple tree. I needed air, I required the ability to breathe without feeling the weight of everyone else’s sadness clinging on me.
It was at that moment that I saw Rachel. She was approaching me while holding something in her hands.
“Nora,” she said, her voice breaking softly. “I have to hand this over to you.”
I did a frown. Who or what is it?
She extended an envelope to someone. In the typical scribble that Adam uses, my name was scrawled across the front of the shirt.
“I was requested by him to hand it over to you. After that.”
“What comes next?”
It was a downward gaze. “Just… later on. Nothing further was said by him.
I accepted it with trembling hands as I did so. The envelope had a weight that was unnaturally heavy for paper.
“Had he said anything else else? Any thoughts on the matter?”
The head of Rachel was shaken. “Only the fact that it was significant.”
Despite the fact that nothing made sense, I nodded.
It wasn’t until later that I opened it. I was not prepared. Do not exist. I was not surrounded by tombstones and eyes filled with tears.
It was a quiet drive home for me. After parking outside my apartment for close to an hour, I did nothing except stare at the envelope that was sitting on my lap. The use of his handwriting gave the impression that he was still there; it was as if he were whispering from the other side the instant I opened the envelope.
I did not, however, open it.
It wasn’t until I was inside, by myself, sitting at the kitchen table with nothing but the ticking clock and my pumping heart for company that I realized what was going on.
With trembling fingers, I opened the seal and peeled it open. The paper that was contained therein was folded once. Old books and a hint of fragrance were the scents that he left behind.
It was gently unraveled by me.
My most cherished Nora,
This is not something that can be started easily. In an effort to provide you with the best possible letter, I have written and revised it a dozen times. I am aware, however, that there is no faultless way to express what I have concealed from you for all of these years.
I am no longer here if you are reading this. However, I was never able to have the bravery to tell you in person. You have my sincere apologies for that.
It’s Nora… It’s not only because I’m your brother.
My name is your father.
My gaze was fixed on the page. My heart came to a standstill. The words become clumsy. The room began to tilt.
A abrupt and brief pause occurred in my breathing.
I went back and read the sentence once again.
My name is your father.
I clung to the sides of the table as if they might serve as a support for me. No one or anything could. It seemed as if the earth before me had disappeared.
It proceeded with the letter.
When it took place, I was seventeen years old. Young in age. Stupid. I am in love. She went by the name Chloe. Fear gripped her as soon as she learned that she was expecting a child. It was her desire to go and begin a new life in a distant location. It was not her intention to bring up a kid.
Our mother and father intervened. They informed me that the only way to ensure your safety and provide you with a future was for them to bring you up as if you were their own child. if I were to become your brother. Instead of your father.
No, I concur. I was terrified as well.
I, however, have never ceased being your father. Only for a single day.
Tears fell across the paper as they fell. In an effort to concentrate and continue reading, I wiped my face with the sleeve of my shirt.
At the time of your birthdays, I wanted to let you know. For the plays at your school. When I was summoned for assistance by you. Every every time I caught a glimpse of your grin, I couldn’t help but think, “That’s my daughter.”
On the other hand, I did not. For the reason that I was a little boy acting like a grownup. And there was no voice to be heard.
As a result, I remained in that background. Just when you needed me, I showed up. I was attentive as you were speaking. From the sidelines, I discreetly clapped for the team.
My love, however, was never a quiet one.
My greatest delight is you, and you will continue to be so forever. In the future, I pray that you will forgive me.
Always and forever, Dad
“Dad” was the word that broke my heart.
I let the letter fall to the ground and covered my lips while crying. Sobbing in a manner that I hadn’t done since I was a youngster. When I heard the loud, heaving moans, my chest began to boil and my head began to pound.
A single page included a reworked version of all I knew about my life before. My father was really my brother. Who were my parents? The people who raised me?
There was no sleep for me that night. I stood there till daybreak, holding the letter in my hands and reading it over and over again, hoping that each time it would provide a new challenge.
It did not happen.
I got in my car and went to Rachel’s place that morning.
Her eyes were red-rimmed when she answered the door while wearing her pajamas. Simply stepping aside to make room for me to enter, she did not utter a single word.
While we were seated in the living room, we were surrounded by relics of him, such as his books, his jacket that was hanging on the coat rack, and a coffee mug that was still lying on the counter, half-drunk.
What she said was, “You read it.”
I gave a little nod. “When did you find out about it?”
“When we finally tied the knot. One night, he had a nightmare, and when he woke up, he was shivering. “What was wrong?” I inquired, and he explained it to me.
I inhaled deeply. What was the reason why he never told me?
Rachel gazed at her hands as she looked down. He want to do so. Better than anything else. However, he was full of fear. He believed that it would be detrimental to you. that you would have a sense of betrayal. Or bewildered. Or that you would despise him.”
I exhaled with a trembling breath. “He was not in the wrong.”
Her voice was trembling. Once upon a time, he would constantly bring up your name. Regarding the pride that he felt. Even in the smallest of details. A good example of this would be the habit of leaving your shoes in the middle of the hallway. Alternatively, there was the occasion when you managed to get a standing ovation while singing off-key at your school performance.
The tears began to collect once again as I quietly chuckled. It was impossible to miss him. He was never absent at any event. I just could not see why it was of such great significance to him.
Rachel made an attempt to grab my hand. He loved you more than you could ever hope to comprehend.
That reality washed over me like a gentle wave as I sat in stillness and let it to wash over me.
Next, I stood up. What I need to do is speak to them. I am—” I was hesitant. They are my grandparents.
She gave a single nod. The phrase “Do what you need to do”
—
The appearance of the home was without change. During the springtime, my mother would stress over the flowerbeds, the white exterior, and the red shutters. However, it suddenly had the sensation of being a museum; it was curated, empty, and full of echoes and mysteries.
The doorbell was rung by me.
When she opened it, my mother’s face quickly lit up with excitement before dropping to the ground when she saw my look.
It’s Nora.
My statement was, “We need to talk.”
She did not inquire as to the reason. Her departure was unnoticed by anybody.
Tea was being stirred by my father, who was in the kitchen. As soon as I went in, he slowly turned around, and the feeling of guilt struck me like a blow. The expressions on their faces were adorned with it.
He said, “You know,” as he spoke.
“I am aware.”
There is no sound.
“Why did you never tell me to begin with?” Despite my best efforts to communicate in a confident manner, my voice cracked.
In front of her, my mother clasped her hands over her chest. “Our intention was to safeguard you.”
To what extent? Because of the truth? From the guy who brought me up in a manner that no one else could have done better?
The words “He was a child, Nora” were said softly by my father. Regarding how the rest of the world would regard him, we were terrified. in terms of how it might influence you.”
There was a right for me to know. I was deserving of the truth.
Our mother’s eyes were full with tears. “You are absolutely correct. Also, I am very sorry. We, nevertheless, adored you. Every single one of us. This has never been altered.
In a sour tone, I said, “But he never got the chance to be my father.” “I wasn’t allowed to call him Dad,” I said.
Slowly, my father put his cup down on the table. “We will recognize and respect your need for time. If you need some space.”
I gave a little nod. “I need both of them. However, I must also state that I had feelings for him. Furthermore, if I had been aware of the person he really was, I would have loved him much more.
My mother made an attempt to touch me, but I resisted her. Not at this time.
“Give me space,” I reminded her. “That is the only thing I can ask for at this time.”
Also, they allowed me to depart.
—
The letter was framed by me that same evening.
I put it on my bookshelf, and I positioned it so that it was in the very middle, where I could view it every day.
Simply put, it was not a letter.
The truth was revealed.
It marked the conclusion of one chapter and the start of the next installment.
He served as my father.
Finally, I was able to understand.