So we did what any good parent would do. My husband Gary and I took them in.
Mia did not act entitled or spiteful. She offered to find a job to pay the rent, clean, cook, and do everything she could, but we declined. She was a family member. She still is.
Their divorce left me heartbroken, but Gary and I concentrated our efforts on assisting Mia in raising Ava in a secure and caring environment.
Tom, on the other hand, didn’t seem affected or bothered about what he’d done and moved on disturbingly fast.
But what truly broke my heart is that he ended up visiting Ava and stopped calling her. I begged him to stay in her life, but he nodded it off. He told us Mia had probably lied about Ava being his, and called her names I won’t repeat.
We didn’t tell Ava any of that back then. She was a quiet, observant little girl with Mia’s eyes and a mind as sharp as a tack. She loved puzzles, music, and clung to Gary like he hung the moon! He’d read her bedtime stories, take her to soccer games, and even taught her how to ride a bike when she was six.
They were great friends, and she deserved to have the father she lacked.
Tom and Lacey now have a four-year-old kid, whom he has begun to pay more attention to.
Then, two years ago, everything shifted.
Gary was diagnosed with lung can.cer. It sh0cked all of us, but especially Ava. She was 14, old enough to know what was coming. She attended every session and even shaved her head in solidarity when his hair began to come out due to treatment.
Tom never showed up. I swear, I have no idea how he became the way he is. No hospital visits, just a few brief phone conversations.
When I asked why he was so absent, he scoffed.
“You have other kids,” he said. “It’s not like Dad’s dying alone.”
I almost dropped the phone.
Now here we are.
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