I look in the mirror and wonder what parts of my face match with yours. I clearly look a lot like my mother, but these brown eyes aren't hers. Where did this blondish hair come from? Do I smile like you? I shake my head—honestly, I don't want to know. It doesn't matter. But then again, maybe it does.
From a young age, I've always known that my biological father wasn't going to be a part of my life. I had a mom who played both roles. Well, until she fell in love with another man. This "other dad" took me in as his own even before he married her. He took on the role of being a father to another man's child. This is something I can't even begin to comprehend, that you love a child so deeply you are willing to do anything for them, not caring that your blood isn't running through their veins, but you act as if it is. Maybe it's the fact that I'm only 20 and don't have a family of my own that I can't truly understand what kind of love that takes. He's been there for everything from losing teeth, the big basketball game and the major life events. But I always seem to find myself wondering about the bio-dad. The one who gave me up. So, bio-dad, here is a letter from the daughter you didn't want.
Dear Bio-dad,
I want to start with something simple so you get that this letter is one from my heart in its truest form. I don't hate you anymore. I did, though, for a long time. Probably too long, actually. Sometimes I wish you could see how well I'm doing in life without you, but other times I don't want you to know anything about what I'm doing. Did you know I don't even know what your face looks like? I've been told you have other kids now, a few daughters even. I hope that you never forget to tell them you love them when they leave, that you provide them with all the love and support that you didn't for me. I don't give you credit for anything I accomplish, but I do want to give you credit for something because it is important to who I am today.
I can give you credit for teaching me at a young age that heartbreak and disappointment usually come from those who are supposed to love you the most. If it wasn't for you leaving, I wouldn't have an amazing brother who is conquering the world one insulin shot at a time. Or parents who have shown me that even after 12 years of marriage, the honeymoon only ends if you let it. I gained a family that, when faced with the earth-shattering reality, leans on each other for support in times when no one else seems to understand the pain. But mostly, I want to thank you for leaving so that I could have a dad. Not a father or other half of my DNA, but a dad. One who loves me enough to give me his last name and convince a judge that he's ready to take full responsibility for me (even through all the dramatic teenage years—sorry, Dad). One who treats me like his blood is surging through my veins so much that even I believe it does. But most of all, one who has given my momma the greatest gift in life—an endless, unconditional love. I hope that you've found all of these things in your life as well—a wife who loves you and kids who think you are the world's best superhero. I hope one day that you are brave enough to tell them about me, but if not, I will understand. So, bio-dad, I hope you are doing well because I can honestly say I hope the best for both you and your family.
Sincerely,
The little girl who conquered the world without you
