When I was a child,
I thought if I were good enough, he’d come back.
I made my bed, finished my homework,
and never missed a day of school.
But no matter what I did,
he never came back.

In high school, the hurt turned to hate.
I despised everything about him…
his name, his choices, his absence.
I wanted so badly to strip away my last name,
to sever the final tie to a man I never knew.

But as I grew into adulthood,
curiosity crept in.
It wasn’t my fault,
it was never my fault, or my siblings’ fault.
Still, I wondered:
What did he look like?
What did his voice sound like?
Even so, forgiveness felt impossible.

Until today.

I saw his eyes for the first time,
heard the voice I had only imagined.
And I could tell
life had eaten him away.
Whatever I had carried, anger, resentment,
his life was worse.

So I let it go.

The little girl he remembered
is a stranger now.
I realized,
that I knew nothing about the man in front of me.
But who I am, who I have become,
it’s not because of him.

Or maybe it is.
Because his absence
made me exactly who I am.