I grew up without a father, but in my heart I always hoped to meet him one day, look him in the eye and demand an explanation. My mother was pregnant with me when her beloved husband left her the day before the wedding. They didn’t tell anyone about the pregnancy to avoid shame, but my father was afraid of responsibility. My mother raised me alone, without the help of my parents and friends. I remember her exhausted look after a hard day at work. She would bring me goodies and kiss me before going to bed. As I grew older, I started looking for information about my father, but I was very afraid of offending my mother.
For many years, my father never appeared in our lives, and I really wanted to find him. One day, when my mother was away from home, I was rummaging through her things and found some documents with my missing father’s name, surname, and address on them. I didn’t even know what to do with this information. At first, I tried to search for his data on the Internet, but the searches yielded no results. On the Internet, I met a girl, my age, who happened to live in the same city as my father. She promised to help me find him and went to the right address the very next day.
But no one opened the door. I thought that my father had long since moved elsewhere, but no. My smart friend thought of talking to the neighbors. It turned out that my dad and his new family lived at this address, but they were currently on vacation abroad. A week later, when they returned from vacation, the friend went to visit them again, and this time she managed to see my dad. Despite all our efforts, my father refused to see me, because now he has a different life, a family, children, and why should he lose everything because of a stranger, albeit a native boy. What an idiot I was, I should have listened to my mother…
