My Late Mom and I Shared a Christmas Hershey’s Tradition – She Died This Year, but It Led Me to a Truth I Never Expected

And there it was, the choice Mom had left for me: to do what I thought was right.

Everything made sense.

He looked small suddenly, but hopeful.

I could see my own features in his face now. The shape of my nose. My chin. This was my father, a man I’d thought was dead, and he was asking me to save him.

But how could I?

It would’ve been hard enough if he were just asking for forgiveness, but he wanted a piece of my liver!

He was asking me

to save him.

I stepped away from the bench, away from the giant Hershey’s bar that suddenly felt like a trap.

How on earth could Mom have shared this with him? He’d taken our sacred ritual and twisted it into a way to hustle me!

But was I really the type of person who could let him die because I was angry? Because I had decided he didn’t deserve my help?