She Called Me After 15 Years… And Changed Everything

I’m in my sixties now, divorced, with two grown children.

I’m also battling late-stage cancer. My daughter and I haven’t spoken in 15 years—we’re estranged.

I don’t blame her. I broke the family with an affair.

Then, out of nowhere, I got a call. It was my daughter, crying, pleading.

“Dad… I know we haven’t talked in a long time. But… I need you. I really do.”

At first, I thought I was dreaming. Her voice sounded older, rougher, but still carried that familiar crack she had when she was a teenager and emotional.

I stayed silent for a moment. I think she feared I’d hung up, because she begged, “Please, just listen. Don’t hang up.”

“I’m here,” I said finally.

She sighed deeply, like she’d been holding her breath. “It’s Elijah,” she said. “My son. He’s sick. We’re at the hospital. They don’t know what’s wrong yet. I didn’t know who else to call.”

I hadn’t even known I was a grandfather.

Fifteen years. That’s how long she’d cut me out—no emails, no birthdays, no contact. And now, here she was, not only reaching out but needing me.

“What can I do?” I asked, my voice cracking.