19
After the funeral of his father accidentally found his diary, while reading, the heart almost jumped out of his chest, an unexpected truth opened.
Inside the personal diary are kept secrets and secret thoughts of a person. They say paper can bear it. She can trust what she has been hiding from her family for years. But what happens when personal records end up in the hands of someone better off not reading them? Our new story proves that everything secret sooner or later becomes apparent.
My father passed away a month ago. After the farewell dinner, I went through his things, wanted to take something to remember him. I remember when he taught me how to draw, he gave me my first paints and easel. Dad used to sit by the canvas himself. He painted abstract paintings, thus splashing out his emotions. That's what I do now.
In Dad's drawing corner, I found his brushes, paints, pencils. And under a mountain of small sketches lay some old shabby notebook. I opened it, thought my dad was painting in it. But it turned out it was his diary.
I held my breath. One part of me said I shouldn't read it, as if it would tarnish my father's memory. But the other one, on the contrary, challenged me. I gave up and took the notebook with me.
Inside my father's personal diary were many of his memories. I found a record of my decade. Dad wrote, "Our bun loved it!" We gave Marusa the kitten she wanted. The baby cried with happiness and hugged me very tightly. I read my father’s next recording and tears came to my eyes. I felt like I was reliving all these emotions.
Together with my dad’s diary, I spent long winter evenings. Thanks to this notebook, I felt like I was living another life. But one day I came across a tape that showed me that I didn't know everything about my father.
The recording is dated to my 18th birthday. The pope wrote: 'Marusa turns 18 today. And I don't know what to do. I want to tell her the truth, I want her to know who her father is. But how do you pull yourself together? I am afraid that my wife will object.” The recording ended and continued the next day: “The holiday was a success!” Marusya went to a cafe with friends and then karaoke. Says he had a good time. I never could tell her. Chickened again.
Reading Dad's diary turned into a search for his secret. I read further and further until I came across that record: 'I dated Misha today. He wanted to know how Marousia was doing. Trying to get me to introduce him to her. But I said no. I'm not ready for this. I know that sooner or later my daughter will find out that I am not her biological father. But not now.
Sometimes I find myself thinking that this didn’t happen to me. It wasn't my favorite woman who cheated on me with my best friend. He was not standing in front of me on his knees, begging for forgiveness, saying that he was not himself. And he didn't go with me to the hospital to take a paternity test that confirmed my concerns.
Dear Marusya, my bun! If only you knew how much I love you! I hate myself for not being able to tell you the truth. I have forgiven your mother, I am still with her and do not regret my decision. But can you forgive me when you know the truth? ?
Rethinking life The record broke again. So is my father's life. He was only 53 years old. I read this tape over and over again to see what happened. I didn't know what to do. I didn’t want to know who my biological father was. But I was sure my real dad would have told me sooner or later. He just didn't make it.
My beloved daddy gave me a better childhood, and with him I got to know myself and become wiser. I am so sorry that he lived so many years torturing himself. I hope that there, in heaven, he is calm and joyful. I'll always be there, Dad!
Some people keep secrets, fearing that someone will find out about them. Others would be happy to admit it, but they lack the spirit. Marousi's father couldn't tell his daughter the truth. But she found it inside his personal diary. Perhaps that's what should have happened?
How many skeletons are in your closet? Tell me in the comments, do you keep a personal journal?
My father passed away a month ago. After the farewell dinner, I went through his things, wanted to take something to remember him. I remember when he taught me how to draw, he gave me my first paints and easel. Dad used to sit by the canvas himself. He painted abstract paintings, thus splashing out his emotions. That's what I do now.
In Dad's drawing corner, I found his brushes, paints, pencils. And under a mountain of small sketches lay some old shabby notebook. I opened it, thought my dad was painting in it. But it turned out it was his diary.
I held my breath. One part of me said I shouldn't read it, as if it would tarnish my father's memory. But the other one, on the contrary, challenged me. I gave up and took the notebook with me.
Inside my father's personal diary were many of his memories. I found a record of my decade. Dad wrote, "Our bun loved it!" We gave Marusa the kitten she wanted. The baby cried with happiness and hugged me very tightly. I read my father’s next recording and tears came to my eyes. I felt like I was reliving all these emotions.
Together with my dad’s diary, I spent long winter evenings. Thanks to this notebook, I felt like I was living another life. But one day I came across a tape that showed me that I didn't know everything about my father.
The recording is dated to my 18th birthday. The pope wrote: 'Marusa turns 18 today. And I don't know what to do. I want to tell her the truth, I want her to know who her father is. But how do you pull yourself together? I am afraid that my wife will object.” The recording ended and continued the next day: “The holiday was a success!” Marusya went to a cafe with friends and then karaoke. Says he had a good time. I never could tell her. Chickened again.
Reading Dad's diary turned into a search for his secret. I read further and further until I came across that record: 'I dated Misha today. He wanted to know how Marousia was doing. Trying to get me to introduce him to her. But I said no. I'm not ready for this. I know that sooner or later my daughter will find out that I am not her biological father. But not now.
Sometimes I find myself thinking that this didn’t happen to me. It wasn't my favorite woman who cheated on me with my best friend. He was not standing in front of me on his knees, begging for forgiveness, saying that he was not himself. And he didn't go with me to the hospital to take a paternity test that confirmed my concerns.
Dear Marusya, my bun! If only you knew how much I love you! I hate myself for not being able to tell you the truth. I have forgiven your mother, I am still with her and do not regret my decision. But can you forgive me when you know the truth? ?
Rethinking life The record broke again. So is my father's life. He was only 53 years old. I read this tape over and over again to see what happened. I didn't know what to do. I didn’t want to know who my biological father was. But I was sure my real dad would have told me sooner or later. He just didn't make it.
My beloved daddy gave me a better childhood, and with him I got to know myself and become wiser. I am so sorry that he lived so many years torturing himself. I hope that there, in heaven, he is calm and joyful. I'll always be there, Dad!
Some people keep secrets, fearing that someone will find out about them. Others would be happy to admit it, but they lack the spirit. Marousi's father couldn't tell his daughter the truth. But she found it inside his personal diary. Perhaps that's what should have happened?
How many skeletons are in your closet? Tell me in the comments, do you keep a personal journal?
Generously pour into the washing machine strong coffee, without a fragrant drink I do not even undertake to wash, I feel like a gas station washer.
A brother in the village breeds rabbits, a profitable business, if you know what mistakes you can not make, taking care of the eared