This is a story about mea woman who, at the age of 27, longed for a child. The twist was, the only person who could make that happen turned out to be a married man I loved a little too earnestly for comfort. As fate would have it, his sense of duty kept him from leaving his wife. The whole situation was as awkward as a muddy dog in a white-carpeted front room. Nevertheless, I found myself expecting his child.
Despite my lovers best efforts at supporting me, my familyall except for my fatherstood by me. My dad, however, acted as though Id come home with a tattoo of the enemy football team. To him, having a child outside of wedlock was the ultimate taboo, and he flat-out refused to acknowledge my daughter as his granddaughter. The thought of bringing her into my parents homewhere the frost would have been thicker than a Boxing Day hangoverabsolutely broke my heart.
My mum, bless her, never stopped begging me to visit. However, I began to see she was the only one in the house with open arms. My brother, on the other hand, was a gemhe absolutely doted on my little girl. When she turned two, he decided it was finally time to tie the knot and invited us to his wedding. At first, I hesitated; nobody wants to be the thundercloud at someone elses celebration. I half-expected my father to scowl us right out of the invite. But my brother, mum, and future sister-in-law managed to talk me round in the end.
The wedding was swarming with kids, yet my daughter stood outnot because she was prettier, but simply because she was the only one rocking a chocolate brown complexion. I kept an eye on her all evening, worried about the reception from our family more than any distant aunt with a wobbly sherry. My father has always been a sucker for small children, but nothing prepared me for what I witnessed. I turned to see him cradling my daughter in his arms, deep in one of those heart-to-hearts only small children and newly reformed grandfathers can have. I stayed back, watching them together, letting the moment do its healing.
By the end of the night, my father came to me. He pulled me into a proper hug, full of apologies, askingalmost pleadingthat I come home with his granddaughter. Of course, the other guests were shamelessly whispering about our past drama, but at that point, I couldnt have cared less. I forgave my father on the spot. Now my daughter has the granddad everyone deserves. And honestly, if that isnt the heart of real, messy, altogether wonderful happiness, I dont know what is.
