I never knew my father. On my 40th birthday, my mother gave me a packet of letters tied in pink ribbon that my father wrote to me when I was a little girl. He died when I was seven. My maternal family’s oral tradition painted him as an alcoholic who did not pay child support and was not interested in knowing his daughter. The pages in my book “HisStory” are sections of his letters which I reassembled in the following order to create a more acceptable image of my father.
Dear Nancy Lee: I am your father. I wish I had known you. I am not as bad as your mother told you. I did not forget you at Easter. I was broke. Ever, Dad.
© Nancy Kramer