"My dearest Hope.
I do not know how this will find you – as a child full of wonder; a teenager full of opinions; or a young woman with the world at her feet. I write to tell you that I love you and to explain in our family's darkest hour, I was called upon to save my siblings, and so I did. Please do not mourn me. Whatever pain I endure I do so in service of those I love.
My soul regret is that I will be away from you.
Be good to your mother. I draw comfort knowing that she will not rest until our family is united.
Until then, my sacrifice will allow you to grow, to become the beautiful daughter I can now only imagine. Please remember that you are the legacy this family has always desired.
The promise we fought to protect. You are, and always will be, our hope."
I guess I will never forget the moment I read this words for the first time. I was six years old, and had just learned how to read when mum gave it to me. I had never been a girl who wanted to be like all the other kids in Kindergarten, like having parents who were both present in their child's life.
The fact that I didn't knew my father didn't bother me at all, really. Mum would always tell me bedtime stories about my strong father or my brave uncle, so that I always had the feeling that they were there. Of course I knew that my father wasn't a saint, because he wasn't. But when it came to family, he would do anything for us. And I knew that.
But when mum gave me his letter he wrote all those years ago, it was the very first time I had something from him for my own. All the stories mum told me where somehow something she experienced with our family, but this letter he wrote to me, that was something which he wanted only me to receive. Words which were only meant for me, from my father.
I used to read his letter every evening until I knew every single word by heart, until I knew exactly how my name was written in his handwriting. Until I imagined him writing this to me, maybe with tears in his eyes or a determined expression on his face.
However, that was ten years ago. And I don't want to tell the story how I grieved about his loss.
I want to tell the story how I found my way back to him.