In another photo, Emily was a bride. He was smiling next to a tall man with a stache hair. On his back it said:
“Our wedding. I wish you were there.”
I put the photo on the table and started crying.
All my life I considered my father an imperfect but loving man. I knew he was stubborn, that he was making inappropriate jokes and that sometimes he didn’t keep his promises. I did not know, however, that the same person could be a father present for me and almost absent for another child.
There was also an envelope in the box more recently. Inside was a photo of a little girl, dressed in a yellow dress, holding a teddy bear in her arms.
On his back it said:
“Lily, three years. Always ask when Grandpa Daniel is coming.”
I closed my eyes.
A three-year-old was waiting for a grandfather I had been with me all my life.
