Caleb slid the letter across the table, and my hands trembled as I read the first line: “Caleb, I am your grandfather, and I have been watching you grow from far away.” My knees weakened. I had been told my father died before Caleb was born. The page continued in shaky handwriting: “I could not come to you, because I made a terrible mistake, and I did not think I deserved to.”

I looked up, and Caleb was staring at me. “Mom, did you know Grandpa was alive?” I shook my head, tears already falling. At the bottom of the page was an address in Tulsa and one more line: “If you come, bring your mother. I owe her the truth about the night I left.” Caleb picked up his car keys, and I knew we were going.