We told my dad he couldn’t keep using our finances to gamble. He yelled, “We’ll regret it,” as he stormed away. A week later, my eight-year-old brought home a brand-new iPhone from school. “I got it from Grandpa,” she said with a smile. I pulled the device out of her hand, launched the camera app, and was shocked by the picture that came out.
The picture was clearly taken from outside my daughter’s bedroom window and showed her sleeping well.
I was having problems getting air. My heart raced in my ears. The picture was time-stamped three nights ago at 2:17 a.m. The porch light was off that night. I remembered that my spouse hadn’t changed the burned-out lightbulb yet.
I looked at my kid without knowing it. She was singing and spinning her backpack. I hugged her a little too tightly. “Did Grandpa say anything else, dear?”
She shrugged. He just told me that I may call him whenever I want and that he misses me. But if I tell you or Daddy to, you’ll take the phone.
That was all. I told my husband Nate everything over the phone at work. He went home right away.
Nate said, “He’s gone too far.” “It doesn’t matter that he’s your dad.” This is not normal behavior.
We got down with our kid and carefully explained what was going on when she couldn’t keep the phone. She frowned but didn’t say anything when I offered her my old iPad as a peace offering.
I immediately blocked Dad’s number on all of her devices.
That night, I kept looking through the iPhone. Even though the gallery was mostly empty, I found a deleted folder with more pictures in it, including blurry pictures of our mailbox, backyard, and even our garage door that was only partially open. It looked like he was watching us.
The next morning, I went to the address where he had been sleeping. He found a run-down apartment after losing the family house because of poker debts. When he opened the door, his eyes were unfocused, and I could smell the alcohol before he said anything.
I exclaimed, “You’ve got some nerve,” and brandished the phone in his face. “What is this?”
He barely looked at it. “I gave her a gift.” My granddad is her grandfather. Not a crime.
You told her to keep it a secret from us. You were outside our house in the middle of the night taking pictures of her window. That’s against the law.
He didn’t look me in the eye as he scraped his cheek. “I just… I miss her. I’m not a danger.
“No, you’re just being careless and rude,” I said. “Dad, you need help.”
At that point, he lost it. “You think you’re perfect! sitting on your horse with your spouse and the patio furniture that goes with it. You all just stood there and watched me lose everything!
I didn’t yell back. I was too tired. I left the phone on his shattered coffee table when I walked out.
That night, I lay in bed and couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t stop thinking about that picture of my kid. He silently stood in the darkness, capturing his sleeping granddaughter’s image as it was a priceless moment, not only because he took the picture. I was cold.
But there was something more that disturbed me. The phone was brand new. The phone cost $1,000. My dad couldn’t pay for groceries last month.
Could you please tell me how he got the money?
The next morning, I went to work excavating. I asked my sister Dana what she thought. She hadn’t talked to Dad in months.
“No, I haven’t given him anything,” she said. I told him he couldn’t cash a check that he had made to himself from a closed account. Why?
When I told her about the iPhone, she cursed under her breath.
“You think he took it?” I asked.
She thought about it. or give something up for pawn. Do you remember Grandma’s watch?
I felt sick all over.
Before dementia took over, Grandma gave me her gold watch years ago. I had kept it in a little box in my closet in case I could give it to my daughter when she got older.
I raced to my closet and started looking through everything.
It was gone.
I didn’t even know it was missing.
It was the most important time. The cops were told about it. I had to set a limit, but not because I wanted my father to go to jail. When someone entered into our house, stole things, and gave a kid stolen electronics, it was more than just an addiction. The result was total chaos and anarchy.
He listened closely and nodded when the officer walked by, as if he had heard the same story a hundred times. He promised me that they would look into it, but he also told me that I couldn’t do much unless Dad admitted to the theft or I had proof of it.
I gave him the pictures. He let out a sigh. “This might help. We will get back to you.
It was horrible.
I didn’t want to be the daughter who phoned the cops on her father. But I also didn’t want to be the mom who had to deal with the problems that come from disregarding warning flags too late.
Weeks went by. We didn’t get any updates at all. I tried to move on by blocking Dad’s number.
Then, one Friday night, a package with no return address came to our door. It had my grandmother’s watch and a note in Dad’s shaky writing.
“I’m sorry. I needed money. I thought I could get it back. Please take care of her. I’ve only done one good thing for her.
There was no signature. That’s all.
I called Dana. “Have you gotten anything?”
“No. Just you?
I felt sick again. Where had he gone?
A few days later, the hospital called me. People found Dad passed out behind a bar. not getting enough food or water. but still alive.
When I got to his room, he looked like a shadow of the man I knew as a child. His eyes opened when he heard my voice.
He answered, “I brought the watch back.”
“I get it,” I said softly as I sat next to him. “Thank you.”
He looked at me with tears in his eyes. “I didn’t mean to scare her. or you. I just want to be important again.
That really hit me.
He had a lot of issues, yet he once drove across town in the rain to get me a charger for my college laptop. He had been there for me as I was giving birth. He had taught my daughter how to balance on her scooter before he started gambling.
I knew he needed help, not more shame.
So, we signed him up for a recovery program.
It wasn’t simple. He had two relapses. He cursed at the workers. He didn’t show up for his appointments.
But he always came back.
He got better over time.
After six months, he sent me a message one day asking if I might come to one of her soccer games. I’ll stay in the back. I just want to watch.
I talked to Nate about it. Yes, we both agreed on limits.
He got there. He got there sober, clean-shaven, and quiet. He didn’t try to get close to her. He just watched and did nothing. When she scored, everybody quietly cheered.
She saw him. I ran to him later and held him tightly.
After then, it was tiny steps. visits under supervision. During the weekends, breakfast. He apologized to both of us in front of everyone during our therapy sessions.
He sold his car to pay back what he could. He also started volunteering at the same rehabilitation center where he had gotten help before.
He is not perfect. He probably won’t be.
But he is there.
My daughter still has the iPhone. We let her keep it after wiping it and setting up strict parental controls.
She sometimes FaceTimes Grandpa to show him a new dance move or a drawing.
From the doorway, I sometimes watch them talk without saying a word and with a hint of wonder.
Not long ago, I was ready to get rid of this man.
But cutting someone off doesn’t make them better.
People get better when they think they can.
What was the most important thing I found out? Being left alone is not the same as having limits. Even if you love someone, “This is not okay.” You can help someone who has fallen while yet keeping your family safe.
Giving someone another chance, but with rules, can be the most powerful way to show love.
If you’ve ever had to choose between keeping your relationship and keeping your peace, you’re not alone.
Sometimes, being patient, honest, and having a few tough talks might help you find the right balance.
Please share this story if it meant something to you. No one knows who else might be in the same predicament today.