'Dad, I Miss You' Posters by My Daughter Bring a Shocking Blast from the Past to Our Doorstep — Story of the Day

One day, my ex-boyfriend, who had walked out on me five years ago, showed up on my doorstep. I slammed the door in his face. But then I found out why he had come. He’d seen the notes plastered all over our small town... thanks to my daughter! “Dad, I miss you,” they all said.

THE GRIEF

Life in our small town had always been simple, the kind of place where everyone knew each other's names, and the biggest excitement was the annual county fair.

But after my mother passed away a month ago, everything felt different. It was like the town itself had lost some of its warmth.

My mother had been the glue holding our little family together, especially since Emma, my daughter, had never known her father.

Mom had stepped in, filling that void in ways I couldn’t, and now, with her gone, the emptiness was overwhelming.

I struggled more than I expected, but I knew she felt the shift.

She was always a sensitive child, picking up on the smallest changes, and lately, her questions about her father had become more frequent.

“Mommy, where's my dad? Why doesn’t he live with us?”

Her big, innocent eyes would search mine for answers I didn’t want to give.

I had always dodged those questions with vague stories, saying things like, “He had important reasons,” or “Maybe he had to go far away.”

I never thought she’d push for more, especially not now when the wounds of losing my mother were still so fresh.

But Emma was persistent. Every day, she would write little notes on scraps of paper.

“DAD, I MISS YOU”

She left them where I could see them—on the kitchen table, by my bed, and even tucked into my purse. Each note was like a tiny dagger, piercing through the walls I’d built around my heart.

“Emma, sweetie, how about we go get some ice cream?”

I tried to steer her away from the sadness creeping into her.

Her face would light up for a moment, but then she’d say something like:

“Maybe Dad likes ice cream too. We should get some for him, Mommy.”

It was breaking my heart, and I didn’t know how to handle it.

The truth was a Pandora’s box, full of pain and regret that I’d tried so hard to keep locked away. I was terrified of what might happen if I opened it.

So, instead, I tried to distract her with anything I could think of. A new toy here, a trip to the carousel there—anything to keep her mind off the father she had never known.

But deep down, I knew I was just postponing the inevitable.

A VISITOR

It was a regular Tuesday afternoon, and I was folding laundry in the living room when a knock echoed through the house. I paused, confused.

Nobody knocked in our small town—they either called ahead or just walked in. I wiped my hands on a towel and headed for the door.

When I opened it, my heart nearly stopped.

“David?” I whispered, hardly believing my eyes.

He stood there, looking as surprised as I felt.

“Lily,” he said, his voice soft. “It’s been a long time.”

I couldn’t move, couldn’t think. My instinct was to shut the door, to keep him out of my life for good. But before I could act, a small voice interrupted.

“Mommy, who is it?” Emma asked, appearing at my side.

David bent down to Emma's level.

“Hi there! I’m David. What’s your name?”

“I’m Emma. Do you want to come inside?”

I opened my mouth to protest, but the words stuck in my throat. Emma was already pulling him by the hand, leading him into the house.

“Emma, wait...” I started, but she was too excited to listen.

David looked at me, unsure. “Is it okay if I come in?”

I hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Yeah, sure.”

As he walked in, Emma started chattering away.

“Do you like lemonade? Mommy makes the best lemonade. We can sit in the kitchen, and you can have some. Right, Mommy?”

“Uh, yeah, lemonade,” I said, trying to regain my composure. “I’ll, um, I’ll get some.”

David followed Emma into the kitchen, glancing around the house as if trying to piece together the life he’d been absent from.

Why now? What did he want?

Emma pulled out a chair for David and then sat across from him.

“So, are you Mommy’s friend?”

David hesitated, looking at me before answering. “I was... a long time ago.”

“Then you’re welcome here! Mommy says friends are always welcome.”

I busied myself with the lemonade, trying to avoid the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm me. I felt David’s eyes on me, but I couldn’t bring myself to speak.

As I placed the lemonade on the table, David finally broke the silence.

A LETTER

“Lily, I didn’t come here to stir up the past, but there are things we need to talk about.”

I sat down across from him, my fingers tightening around the glass.

“Talk about what, David? What could you possibly have to say after all this time?”

He hesitated, glancing at the door where Emma had just exited. Then he finally asked, “Is she... is she my daughter?”

I felt a surge of anger rise within me.

“That’s none of your business, David,” I snapped, my voice cold and sharp.

“Especially after everything you did. You can’t just show up out of nowhere and start asking questions.”

David flinched but didn’t back down.

“Lily, I didn’t come here to...”

“To what, David?” I cut him off, my anger boiling over.

“You didn’t come here to what? To make things worse? You left me! You don’t get to walk back into our lives whenever you feel like it.”

“I didn’t just leave, Lily. You were the one who pushed me away. You didn’t want me anymore. You made that clear.”

I stared at him, disbelief and fury poured into a bitter cocktail in my chest.

“You really think that’s how it happened? You left me when I needed you most. You can’t just show up after all these years and expect... what, forgiveness? Closure?”

David shook his head, his expression pained. “Lily, I...”

“No!” I shouted, cutting him off again.

“This conversation is over. I want you out of here. Now.”

“Lily, please, just listen...”

“Get out!” I yelled, the words echoing through the small kitchen like a clap of thunder.

In a minute, Emma came running in, her eyes wide with fear.

“Mommy? What’s going on?”

But by then, the door clicked shut behind David.

“It’s nothing, sweetie,” I said, forcing a smile. “He had to leave.”

“Mommy, was that my Dad?”

I realized I couldn’t hide the truth any longer. “Yes, it was.”

“Mommy, I have a letter for my Dad. It’s from Grandma. I always carry it with me in case I meet him.”

My breath caught as I saw the old, worn envelope in her hand, with my mother’s familiar handwriting scrawled across the front.

My hands trembled as I took it from her. “This is... this is for him?”

She nodded eagerly.

“There were two letters! But only one’s to him.”

“Emma, do you have the other letter? Was it... was it addressed to me?”

“Yes! I think so. I put it in the mailbox for you.”

I suddenly realized that I hadn’t checked the mail since the day my mother passed away. I flung the door open and hurried to the mailbox, a knot forming in my stomach.

As I opened the mailbox, a cascade of papers spilled out—old bills, crumpled advertisements, and neglected brochures. The mess of forgotten mail tumbled onto the ground, but among the pile, one thing stood out.

There it was, buried beneath the clutter—a faded, worn envelope that seemed almost lost to time.

The handwriting on the front was unmistakable: “To My Dearest Daughter.”

The world around me faded as I carefully tore it open. Inside was a letter, the words on the page blurring as tears welled up in my eyes.

“My Dearest Daughter...”

I hope you can forgive me for what I’m about to confess. Years ago, when you were in love with David, I was so afraid for you. You were so young, with your whole life ahead of you, and I feared that being with him would derail all your plans.

When you had that fight, I saw my chance to protect you from what I thought would be a mistake. I wrote a letter to David, pretending it was from you, telling him that you didn’t love him anymore and that you were with someone else. I thought I was doing the right thing, but I didn’t know that you were already pregnant with Emma. I was scared, and I didn’t want you to ruin your future.

Over the years, I’ve watched you struggle, raising Emma on your own, and I’ve tried to make it up to you by being the best grandmother I could be. But nothing can truly make up for what I did. I’m so sorry, my love, for the pain I caused you both. Before I die, I'm writing these letters to you and David, hoping to finally tell the truth and give you both a chance to heal. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.

With all my love,

Mom”

I stumbled back into the house. Emma was waiting for me in the hallway. “Mommy, are you okay?”

“I’m okay, baby,” I said, my voice shaking. “I just... I need a moment.”

I walked past her, heading for the kitchen.

Why didn’t you tell me, Mom? Why did you keep this from me?

But there were no answers, just the truth that had finally come to light.

DAD AND DAUGHTER

The next day, with a heavy heart, I took Emma to visit my mother’s grave. The weight of the letter still lingered, each word echoing in my mind, but I knew I needed to face the reality of what had happened.

As we strolled along, something caught my eye. Notes, pinned to trees and lampposts, fluttered in the breeze.

Each one read “Dad, I Miss You” in Emma’s handwriting, with our home address scribbled at the bottom.

That's how David had found us!

“Emma, did you put these up?”

“The mailman helped me. I gave him my pocket money to buy tape and everything.”

There was a hint of pride in her voice.

When we reached the cemetery, the familiar sight of the gravestones brought a fresh wave of sorrow. But then, something else caught my attention.

David was standing by my mother’s grave. His presence was unexpected, yet somehow, it made sense.

Emma’s face lit up. She ran up to him, clutching the envelope.

“Here!” she said, thrusting it into his hands. “It’s from Grandma.”

He opened it slowly, reading the words that had shaken my world just a day earlier. I watched as the truth hit him, his expression mirroring the pain I had felt.

Emma looked up at him with a wide smile.

“From now on, you’re my dad, okay?”

A tear slipped down his cheek. “Okay.”

As I stood there, watching the two of them, I knew that we had to put our past behind us. What mattered now was our daughter, the little girl who had brought us back together in the most unexpected way.

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