*****
After everything that happened with my birth mom, I thought I’d feel less nervous meeting my biological dad.
I was wrong. Maybe it was because I had gotten to know Serena a little first, slowly and from a distance, before I finally told her who I was.
That gave me time to understand her energy and feel safe around her. But with Edward, I knew almost nothing.
There were no letters, no pictures, only Serena’s stories and his name.
We were supposed to meet about two weeks after I saw Serena, but life had other plans. First, work stuff piled up. Then, I got sick and was down for days.
Honestly, a part of me wondered if I had been unconsciously stalling.
But eventually, we set a day that actually worked. I asked Serena if she could come too.
It just felt easier having her there, especially since she knew him better than I did. She agreed.
We picked a park halfway between where I live and where Edward stays.
It wasn’t too crowded, with plenty of open space and benches shaded by trees. I got there early, sat on a wooden bench, and tried not to overthink things. Serena joined me a few minutes later, just as nervous.
We didn’t say much.
We only exchanged a few small glances and quiet breaths. Then, we saw him walking toward us.
Even from a distance, I could tell he was already crying. He didn’t try to hide it either.
I stood up, frozen in place, until he reached us and wrapped his arms around me in the biggest bear hug I’ve ever gotten in my life.
“I can’t believe it’s you,” he said, his voice shaking. I hugged him back, a little stunned. He pulled away just to look at my face, and then immediately hugged me again.
This happened more than a few times.
“I’ve waited for this for so long,” he said, wiping his face with the back of his hand. “Thank you, God.
Thank you.”
I looked over at Serena. She was already crying again, covering her mouth with both hands.
We must have looked ridiculous, three grown adults sobbing in a public park.
But I didn’t care. Neither did they. “I just want you to know,” Edward said, his voice thick, “we loved you so much.
From the beginning.
We never stopped.”
Hearing that did something to me. I had already heard it from Serena, but coming from him, someone I had never even seen before, it hit differently.
I felt the pain, the longing, and the love that had never had a place to land until now. “I love you,” he said again, clutching my shoulders.
“We both did.
I still do.”
“Thank you,” I said, trying to keep my own tears under control. “That means more than I can explain.”
We all sat down on a bench, still trying to process everything. I studied his face, and it felt like I was staring into a mirror 25 years in the future.
Serena hadn’t been lying.
I looked so much like him, it was almost funny. “Man,” Edward chuckled through tears.
“You really are my kid. This is wild.”
We sat like that for a while, just breathing and looking at each other.
Then Edward reached into a small canvas bag he’d brought with him.
“I wasn’t sure if this would be too much,” he said, “but I couldn’t show up empty-handed. I’ve had this for years, hoping I’d give it to you one day.”
He pulled out a teddy bear, soft and a little worn, holding a small picture frame. Inside was a photo of him at 16, holding a newborn wrapped in a hospital blanket.
“This was the only picture I ever got with you,” he said softly.
“They let me hold you for a few minutes before… before everything.”
I touched the frame gently, staring at the face of a boy who was now this man sitting in front of me. “Wow,” I whispered.
“I didn’t even know you were there.”
“I begged them to let me be,” he said. “I wanted to say goodbye.
I just didn’t want you to think I didn’t care.”
He then handed me a leather-bound journal.
The cover was creased, the pages thick with ink and time. “I started writing in this a few years after you were adopted,” he said. “My therapist suggested it, and said it might help me cope.
I didn’t think I’d ever actually give it to you, but… here we are.”
I opened it, just enough to read a few lines.
The handwriting was rough but heartfelt. “I don’t know where you are,” one entry began.
“But I think about you every day.”
I closed it gently. “I’ll read it,” I said.
“Thank you.
Really.”
“I just wanted you to know how I felt,” he said. “All the stuff I never got to say. It’s all in there.”
Serena gave us space after that, sensing we were finally settling into the moment.
She smiled at me before walking off to take a call, and left us sitting under the tree together.
“So,” Edward said, “tell me everything. What’s your life like?
What do you love? What makes you laugh?”
He asked almost the same questions Serena did.
He wanted to know about my childhood, my parents, my passions, even dumb things like my favorite snack.
I told him everything. That I had a good life. A really good one.
That my parents were kind, supportive, and gave me the kind of love every kid deserves.
He looked like he was going to cry again. “That’s all we ever hoped for,” he said.
“We were so scared we were making the wrong decision, but we were just kids. Broke.
Living with our parents.
I didn’t want to let you go, but I couldn’t give you what you needed.”
“You gave me a chance,” I said. “And it worked out. I’m happy.”
That made him smile.
We spent the next couple of hours just talking.
He told me how he met Serena in high school, how they were best friends before anything else, and how scared they were when they found out she was pregnant. He talked about their fights, the hard decisions, the nights he couldn’t sleep.
It was raw and honest and kind of heartbreaking. He started noticing things about me, like my mannerisms or little things I said that reminded him of himself or Serena.
At one point, I pulled out a bag of mango slices I had grabbed earlier from the park’s vending machine.
“You like mangoes?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “Love them,” I said. “Could eat them all day.”
He laughed.
“Serena was obsessed with mangoes when she was pregnant.
Even before that. She used to sneak them into class.
Swore they were her ‘magic fruit’ or something.”
We laughed together. I didn’t even care that it was such a random detail.
It made me feel connected to something — like I belonged to these people in more ways than just blood.
It turned out we had a lot in common. He liked hiking, and so do I. He swam competitively in college, and I was on the swim team in high school.
We both love old-school rock, especially music from the ’90s.
“It’s crazy,” I said. “Feels like we’d get along even if we weren’t related.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” he replied.
“You turned out amazing, Jared. You really did.”
We sat in silence for a bit, just enjoying the moment.
I could tell he had more to say.
“I hope it’s okay,” he said, “but I’d like to meet the people who raised you. If you’re okay with that, I mean.”
I nodded. “Yeah, they’d like that too.
They’ve asked about it.
I just… I wasn’t sure how everyone would feel.”
“Well, we’re all adults now,” he said. “We can figure it out together.”
Later that week, I met up with my parents for breakfast.
We went to a local diner we’ve been visiting since I was a kid. I told them everything.
I talked about the park, the letter, the teddy bear, and the journal.
My mom started crying, especially when I told her what Edward had said. My dad didn’t cry, but he looked proud. That quiet kind of proud where you can tell his heart’s full but he’s trying not to show it too much.
“I’m glad it went well,” he said.
“We always wanted this to be your choice, Jared. You don’t owe anyone an apology.”
“I just didn’t want you to think I was looking for something better,” I said.
“You gave me an amazing life. I love you both.”
My mom reached across the table and held my hand.
“We know.
And we love you. This doesn’t change that.
