Ethan spent the next several hours reading his father’s letters. Each one described a different birthday, a school achievement, or a memory Daniel wished he could have shared. There were apologies, explanations, and promises that he had never stopped thinking about his son. In one letter, Daniel described watching Ethan’s first school performance from a distance because he didn’t want to disrupt his life. Another contained a photograph of a small bicycle he had purchased for Ethan’s fifth birthday. Ethan cried quietly as he realized how many moments his father had remembered.

Then he reached the final envelope. Unlike the others, it had been written only three weeks earlier. Daniel explained that he had finally received treatment, rebuilt his life, and found the courage to reach out. He wanted to meet Ethan, but he feared his son would reject him. The letter included a telephone number and a handwritten request: “If you ever want to know me, I’ll be waiting.” Ethan looked at me with tears in his eyes. Then he asked whether I knew where his father was living. I did.