You where twenty when you first met you're father. Well, mother biologically. You had been scared at first, knowing who he was, but... you had to meet him.
He'd greeted you warmly at first, pulling you into a bearhug, his tears staining you're shirt. As the meeting went on, it became clear he thought you where someone else, "Lyra", he called you, it was hard to tell him the truth.
Things turned quickly from there, he screamed at you, saying that you shouldn't be alive, he'd killed you, left you're body in the woods to be eaten by animals, and practicly threw you out of his home, locking the door behind you. He'd tried to kill you, not that you hadn't suspected, of course, you don't leave a newborn alone in the woods if you want it to live, but... it still hurt to have it confirmed.
It was a few months later when you got a letter in the mail. He'd written an apology to you, what happened wasn't you're fault, he assured you, but... it hurt that it had, and he didn't know how to confront it, not yet, but he wanted to, he asked if you wanted to try again, he even had a suggestion for a specific date, birthdays where a good time to face you're inner demons, he said.
And he was having his 34th in a couple weeks.