Yesterday a year ago, my dad passed away. I feel I ought to leave a trace here to remind myself not of our parting but of our meeting again after twenty-nine years of no contact whatsoever. I am so immensely grateful that four years ago I mustered the courage to contact him. It was the scariest thing I’ve ever done. And the most rewarding.
Two years ago I saw my dad – for the first time in 29 years. Our paths had separated when I was nine years old and my parents got a divorce. It was a sudden end to the life I had known. Before I realized my dad was gone. My mom, my siblings and I moved away to live with our new stepfather. I never heard from my dad again. It took me 29 years to find the courage to write to him.
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