Turns out, my father was right even if I didn't want to hear. It would take seven years and more heartache than I could imagine before I was forced to understand what my father told me that day.
In January, my grandmother suffered a stroke. It put her in the hospital. Just when it was looking good for her, she had another stroke that killed her. I'd gone home to see my grandmother after the first stroke. Shortly after I visited her, she had the second stroke.
After spending the next few hours helping my father make arrangements, I went to Kellie's apartment to see her.
When she opened the door to let me in, it was obvious she'd been crying.
I hugged her and assumed she was crying about my grandmother's death. It turned out that was only part of it. It wasn't until I asked about a letter lying on the table addressed to Kellie from her mother.
Kellie quickly grabbed the letter and stuffed it in her pocket.
"Talk to me Kellie," I said, "Whatever's in that letter is obviously bothering you."
"It's my inheritance from my mother," Kellie said, "A letter to be given to me when I was no longer a ward of the state. I've had ever since I got out of the foster system. I just never read it until tonight."
"What did your mother write?" I asked.
"She tried to explain the prostitution, the drugs, why we were dirt poor," Kellie said, "And named my father of all things. My mother never told him about me because her parents sent her away, disinherited, and then died in a freak accident."
"At least you understand things from your mom's perspective now," I said, trying to make Kellie feel better.
"Why didn't she try to find my father after her parents died?" Kellie asked crying, "Was whoring herself and getting high really a better way to support us? She must have been messed up when she wrote the letter. Because if she had been in her right mind and my father was the wonderful man she says he was in this letter, then she would have at least made arrangements for him to be contacted in the event of death instead of leaving me to the foster system."
"Do you want to find your father?" I asked.
"No," She said.
"Why?" I asked.
"When I was in the foster system, I used to fantasize about my dad coming to rescue me," Kellie replied, "Eventually I realized he wasn't coming for me. Ever since then he's been dead to me. It's harsh to say. But it's the truth."
"Are you sure?" Tyler asked.
Kellie nodded. I stroked her hair, wiped her tears, and pulled her close to me.
"I want you to know," I said, "That if you ever change your mind and decide you want to find your father, that's okay too."
"I don't want to find him," Kellie said, "That's a den of snakes if disturbed; I won't be able to get away from."
"So you're father's someone you already know?" I asked.
Kellie shook her head. "I know of him," she said, "What I do know tells me to leave it alone. He's involved in some shady things. Now how are you doing? I think that's more important than a dead and buried past."