I called a number I thought was my father’s over two years ago and asked his name, and when he said that was him, I told him I was his son. “I’m eighty-years old!” Didn’t know my father was a Jr., so the man I called was my grandfather. Haven’t attempted contact since, and don’t have any idea if I will anytime soon. I used to think I had to achieve something monumental; now I realize it doesn’t matter: he left me, not vice versa.

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