“How did my mother die?” I demanded angrily. “Was it in childbirth?”

My grandmother shook her head. “Please, Karen, your father asked me never to discuss this with you.”

“I have the right to know about my own mother!” I cried. “I have the right to know why my father hates me!”

Then I heard a quiet, angry voice behind me. “I don’t hate you, Karen, but your mother’s death is none of your business.”

I turned to face my father. “My mother’s death is none of my business? You’re wrong! I killed her, didn’t I? That’s what you think every time you look at me!”

The look in his eyes made me run out the door. I got into my car and drove aimlessly, tears streaming down my face. In my distress, I didn’t see an oncoming car changing lanes until it was too late.

I woke up in the hospital, hooked to a beeping machine, pain dull but ever-present throughout my body. My father was by my side, holding my hand.

Tears welled in his eyes. “Thank God you’re alright! I’m here. I don’t hate you, Karen. I love you. And I don’t blame you for your mother’s death; I blame myself.”

“When your mom and I married, we were very poor. All we had were dreams and our love. Then she got pregnant, and I took a second job, knowing we’d need the money when you arrived. I worked 16-hour days, and she spent a lot of time alone.”

“One day, I came home, and she wasn’t there. A neighbor had taken her to the hospital. By the time I got there, it was over. Your mother had died, and I hadn’t been there for her.”

“I didn’t blame you, Karen; I blamed myself. I was determined not to fail you as I had failed her, so I threw myself into my work and became a rich man.”

“Daddy, how could you blame yourself?” I asked. “There was nothing you could have done!”

“I could have been there, holding her hand, just as I’m holding yours now,” he said.

“But Daddy…” I hesitated. “You were always so angry with me, so cold. You ran away from me.”

“Karen, you look just like your mother, and every time I looked at you, my heart broke with grief and guilt. It took nearly losing you to make me realize what I had done. I love you.”

For the first time in my life, my father embraced me and showed me his love. It was a new beginning for both of us, and I like to believe my mother was smiling down from heaven.