Dear Joseph and Lucia,
(I’m giving away more information than I likely should, but if you’re reading this Margaret, please don’t just stand by any more. The children deserve better!)
I’ve found a way to see who is reading these letters. I don’t mean to control, but I am so desperate to know if you are reading them. I won’t say what I’ve found, but I doubt either of you are reading them. That makes me sad. I know Gabriel in Brazil is reading them. So are your Grandmother in Brussels and many other relatives all over. Even one of your cousins in New Iberia reads them daily. I suspect that your mother is in touch with them and they are keeping her up to date.
But, sadly, my intended audience isn’t reached. Please search for your names. Find me. I have so much to share with you. Every day I’m out of your lives is a sad moment. There’s just no explaining how sad it makes me. I’m doing everything I can to continue on with my life and not collapse into despair.
There. I’ve gotten that off my chest. Time to dust off and live another day. I’ll be strong so you will have a father when you seek me out. Please be brave. Ask questions. Rebel against what you’ve been told. Scream at me. Cry to me. Do anything… just don’t stay silent. I have answers your mother won’t give you.
I know, Joseph, you have grown tall and your hair is darkening. I’m glad you still play trumpet. Lucia, your hair is still blonde. I would love to see a full picture of both of you to see what handsome kids you have grown into. But, I’ll wait. As always.