The Missing Piece
Yesterday would have been my father’s 78th birthday.
It is a bittersweet milestone for me now. I miss him so deeply, an ache sharpened by the simple, stinging fact that we didn’t get enough time. My parents split when I was seven and my dad remarried and had 3 daughters. Decades of silence followed. Throughout those years, my mother gave me a profound gift: she didn’t speak bitterly about him to me. She always told me, “Your dad was a good father. He loved you, and his leaving had nothing to do with you.” And so, I never carried any anger or resentment toward my dad, just a feeling of loss. That is-until my mom got sick.
When my mom died of breast cancer when I was 25, I was consumed by a heavy anger. I couldn’t understand the “why” of it. Why her? She was the one who raised us, yet she was the one who suffered through the unimaginable. It was just tragic and bitterly unfair.
For a while, I let that anger sit in the way of everything. But as time went on, I started to realize that her death wasn’t my father’s fault. My Dad never wanted her to die. But sometimes it’s easier to be angry then face the real truth. I was angry she was gone and he was the easiest to blame. That’s what hurt does. It looks for blame. I had to get past that sense of injustice to see the man who was still here.
Getting Past the Anger
Some years later, about the time of the MySpace explosion, a note from my sister popped up in my inbox. I wasn’t angry anymore, just scared. Terrified actually. Scared of talking to her, of what my dad might say and of meeting three sisters who grew up with a bond together that I was never a part of.
I remember the day like it was yesterday. I was on a business trip in Syracuse, New York, with my old boss, Sue. It was a massive turning point in my life. We were at the hotel we were staying at and went for a walk.
I kept spiraling, asking her, “What should I do? What if they didn’t like me? What if my father didn’t want to talk to me? The thought of being rejected was something my heart could not handle. Should I talk to her? Sue looked at me and asked, “Do you want to talk to her?” When I said yes, she gave me the push I needed: “What do you have to lose?”
Missing Pieces of My Heart
I spoke to my sister for the first time that night, and the fear vanished instantly. It was like something out of a movie. I knew her immediately. She told me I wasn’t a secret; my dad had spoken about me and Misty their entire life. I hung up that night feeling a happiness I couldn’t explain.
When I finally reconnected with my dad, it was like we picked up exactly where we left off. He was the same dad, with the same love, the same silliness, and the same songs. In no time, I felt just like I was that little girl again. And Misty, it was like her whole world opened up. She lit up in a way that I will never forget. The way she said, “MY DAD”. I can cry right now when I think of how happy it made her to be with him. And how he loved her.
That day, it was like a piece of all our hearts was put back together. Through that one act of choosing peace over anger, I was given a gift I never could have bought: my three sisters.
That was over 20 years ago, and I cannot ever imagine my life before them now. It’s like we have known each other forever. We made so many memories together with my dad before he passed. It was the greatest when we were all together in his small two-bedroom house and all us girls sleeping on the floor and on the couch and laughing nonstop.
I cherish those memories and the new ones that my sisters and I continue to make now. I know we have so many more ahead of us, and I am so profoundly grateful for the day they walked into my life. I couldn’t love them any more than I do; they are a part of my soul.
They filled a gap and a space in my heart that I didn’t even know was missing.
It made me realize how much we lose when we hold onto old hurts. Forgiveness isn’t just about the person you are forgiving; it’s about making peace with yourself. It’s about opening your hands so you can actually receive the blessings meant for you. If you don’t find a way past the anger, you have no idea what and who you are missing out on.
To my dad my only wish is that we had more time. I would give anything to have back every single year that we lost, but I’m so thankful every day for the time we did get together. I’m so grateful for the moment we reconnected, and for every second we got to sing, laugh, and just be a family.
There was nothing you loved more than telling the world, “I have five daughters,” and there was nothing I loved more than finally being one of them again. Thank you for the songs, the silliness, and for the miracle of bringing us all together. It’s the greatest gift you gave us, and I promise to cherish it always. I love you, Dad.