I realized a couple of days ago that I do not possess a photograph of me and my biological father. I have some of him. Him with my mother, my older sister, and even his other family, but none with me. This tugs at my heart just a little. Not so much for sentimental reasons, more for confirmation of my identity, for who I am. I did not know him well; he left when I was a baby and was, for the most part absent from my life. We did attempt to form a brief relationship in my late teens and early twenties, but it was not very successful. I did however go to his side on his death bed, and offer love and forgiveness freely if it was desired. He passed away within minutes of my transatlantic arrival.
Despite the lack of influence from my biological father, I was however loved, nurtured, and raised by a wonderful man. A man who, with no biological children of his own, after marrying my mum legally adopted me, and raised me from infancy till my early teens at which point my parents divorced and I moved to California with my mum and her new husband. I will never know if my Dad truly feel that I am really his child, but I truly feel that he is mine. We remain close despite the distance that keeps us separated. He has earned the title of Dad and I love him as much as a daughter can love her dad. So Happy Fathers Day Dad and thank you so much for loving me.