Monday, February 06, 2017


Post 1443. Monday February 6

This week we are writing to our parents. 

Why?  Why didn’t you want me? Why did you give me away like an unwanted present?

I quite enjoyed my childhood. I did alright at school too. But I was different. I remember looking around on Parent’s Day and seeing something about my friend's Mums and Dads that I could see in them. When I went to their houses, I would look out for mannerisms that they shared with their folks. My daughter has a look of her mother. She may have a look of you. Yes, you are grandparents now.

Like I said, I enjoyed growing up. My new Mum and Dad did everything they could to give me a good life. I never had a problem with our skin being different colours. I had toys, we had holidays, we loved each other.  But something was missing. Something inside.

They told me that you loved me. They said they didn’t know what happened to you. They don’t know where you are they said. I hope they weren’t just saying it to keep me from searching.

I don’t suppose you will see this letter, but I will keep it with me. The pain which has niggled away at me for so long has become too much to bear. It affected my family, so much so that I am now all alone. I no longer have anything to live for. It's time to ask my maker some questions. Perhaps someone will find the letter when they find me. Maybe, just maybe, someone will pass it on to you. If they do, I hope you will read it.

I’d like to finish this letter with ‘Love from’. But I can’t.

Your lost son

Footnote: This is, of course, a work of pure fiction. You won't get rid of me that easily!


  1. A sad letter, even for fiction, and I think a nagging reality for many adopted children who want to search for their birth parents when they are grown, wanting desperately to believe that they mattered and were loved. Well done, Keith, this tugs at the heart!

  2. My first husband was adopted. I truly think he carries the emotional scars with him to this day.

    Very thoughtful.

    - Lisa

  3. The hairs on my arms are standing on end. This is perfect inspiration for some pathos in the short story series I am rewriting. Thank you for this!

  4. Oh...this is sad....
    wish he had happy memories of them