For 18 years, my son received a mysterious envelope every birthday—when he finally opened the last one, he discovered who had been sending them all along

behind.”

Adrian stared through the windshield.

“I spent years thinking maybe it was Dad. I feel stupid.”

“You’re not stupid.”

“I wanted it to be him sometimes.”

That hurt. Not because it offended me. Because I understood. Children can grow around an absence, but they still shape themselves around the empty space.

“I know,” I said.

He looked down at the letters.continue reading …