Dear Dad I Never Had, As you know, we have never met. It’s not because I didn’t have a dad. I did. I had a biological father, but he didn’t love me. So, he wasn’t really a real dad, was he? But you were. I imagined you. I missed you. I still miss you … every day.
I remember it so well. I was about 4 or 5 years old, and I was playing in the dirt in my backyard in Memphis, Tennessee. I remember scooping dirt with a spoon, and putting it in a little cup, and I thinking, “God, I don’t pray very often, and I can’t read yet, so I can’t read the Bible.”
I don’t know you, and you don’t know me, but I have your tea cups. I know that you loved collecting things, and that your china dishes and teapots were something you treasured. When you passed away,