It had been five years since I had seen my father. Five years since he disowned me for being gay. I was just a teenager then, barely 18, and I had been so scared to tell him. I knew he was conservative, but I didn’t think he would react the way he did.

He had kicked me out of the house, told me I was no longer his daughter. I had been devastated, but I had found a new family in the LGBTQ+ community. They had welcomed me with open arms, and I had found a sense of belonging that I had never felt before.

But now, five years later, I found myself standing outside my father’s house. I had received a letter from him, asking me to come and see him. I was nervous, but I knew I had to do it. I had to face him and try to reconcile.

I knocked on the door, and my heart was pounding in my chest. When he opened it, he looked older, more tired. He hesitated for a moment before finally speaking.

“Come in,” he said, and I followed him into the living room.

We sat in silence for a few moments, neither of us knowing what to say. Finally, my father spoke.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I was wrong to disown you. I was scared and didn’t know how to react.”

I nodded, tears streaming down my face. I had waited so long to hear those words from him.

“I forgive you,” I said, and we hugged each other tightly.

We talked for hours, catching up on everything that had happened in our lives since we had last seen each other. He told me about his health problems, and I told him about my job and my girlfriend.

But as the night wore on, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease. I knew that things couldn’t just go back to the way they were before. There was too much hurt, too much pain.

As I got ready to leave, my father hugged me tightly.

“I love you,” he said, and I knew he meant it.

But as I walked out of his house, I couldn’t shake the feeling that things weren’t quite right. We had made progress, but there was still so much left unsaid. So much left to do.

I knew that our relationship would never be the same again. But maybe, just maybe, we could start to build something new. Something different.

As I walked away, I knew that there was still a long road ahead of us. But for the first time in years, I felt a glimmer of hope. A hope that maybe, just maybe, we could find a way to reconcile.