4-30-2002 | 12:35 a.m.

An envelope from my Dad in mail today. I started to shake of course. Even my Mom, looked nervous as I opened it. I know he's hurting, even if he won't talk to me about it. A few sentences on a lined piece of paper:

Dear Meg,
This is a picture I got from my cousin Patty. She gave me three copies, so here's one for you. Talk to you soon.
Love, Dad

A picture I've never seen. One that instantly made me cry. I told my Mom to leave the room. Three smiling faces. Dad, looking young as always, in the middle. On the right, my brother George. On the left me, with a shoulder length hair cut that I don't remember. The three of us have the same eyes. I couldn't have been older than 8, which is how old my sister is now.

I love my younger siblings and would never consider then "half" even if we don't share the same father. Am I evil to miss the days when it was just my Mom, Dad, George and me?

Why did the letter feel like a goodbye? I left a message for Dad, but he hasn't called back yet.