I was blessed with two loving parents, whom may have gotten a divorce nearly immediately after adopting a child but cannot be given anything but praise and gratitude for what they have done for me over all these long years.

I spent much of last night speaking with my father over the phone, the topic bouncing from how much his laptop sucks to how much my life sucks for several hours.

Unlike my mother I find I can speak to my father without him judging me and placing false accusations on my character as she often does. But I mentioned something in our conversation that raised his hackles a little bit, which is rare beyond belief for my father has always been this temperate cloud of mild manners and cool temperate.

I was talking about my paternal father.

Nobody in my family has ever met him.

Up until a year ago I had always filled in the blank in my life of my paternal father with this notion of an ‘assholish’ man that likely knocked up my maternal mother and left her high and dry. But letters from both of them were recently uncovered and handed to me. To this very moment I remain in awe of how no more than a single short letter from both of them has changed my entire world and changed my ability to function so drastically. My birth father and I, as best I can tell, are more or less the same person.

He wanted exactly what I wanted and still want to this moment: to stop the adoption and endure the hardships of raising a child while still practically children yourself and not having a stable relationship between the parents to speak of as well. Regardless, he wanted to keep the three of us together.

This is a man whom I may never find.

A man whom likely I will never come to know beyond a single letter and a single hazy picture. But suddenly I love this man, and feel his absence like a mortal wound upon my being.

This shift, that change from misplaced loathing to longing of a lost parent, has shattered me. I am defeated by this fact.

On this day to remember fathers this fact only compounds within my mind.

Having been a part of a failed relationship and playing house I've lived a bit of life now, and understand better than ever the difficulties that likely faced by my birth parents. But a child seems drawn by instinct to their maternal and paternal connections, and my inner-child is screaming at me like never before.

I'm still not ready to contact my birth mother, but I have the ability to do so at any time. But when I do it is more than likely she will not know any method of contacting this man from her past.

I try my hardest to look at the situation that I am blessed to have many families, whereas most people only get to have one. But I must admit that more family does create more problems and more questions that go unanswered than just one singular family ever could.

Between all the step-parents I could make a statement like: "I have three moms and three dads" and that is actually somewhat accurate.

My patient, understanding father--my intellectual, cynical step-father--my unseen, kindred spirit birth father--all these men have contributed to the person I am today.

For all the intense complexities and frustrations that come along with this unique road I am on today, I would still give thanks to all these men on this day.

Thank you, wherever the hell you are.