My Mom Abandoned Me With My Dad – 22 Years Later She Showed Up On Our Doorstep And Handed Me An Envelope

“Yeah,” he said, sighing deeply. The word sounded fragile.

I crossed the kitchen and leaned on the counter beside him.

“Dad, I mean it,” I said. “Blood doesn’t change who held me at three in the morning, who taught me to ride a bike…

and who sat in the ER when I cracked my chin open on the sidewalk.”

He stirred the stew again, eyes misting.

“It just feels like losing something, son,” he said. “Even though I know I’m not. But…

Dyl, if you want to get to know her… I won’t stop you.”

“I couldn’t care less about that woman,” I said, reaching over and putting a hand on his shoulder. “I didn’t lose anything.

If anything… I just realized how much more you gave me.”

“We’re okay? Dyl, really?” he blinked hard, then nodded.

“We’ve always been okay,” I smiled.

“We’re iron-tight, Dad. It’s always going to be you and me.”

We sat together at the kitchen table, eating in silence.

It turned out that Jessica wasn’t done.

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