Past Questions

Dear Diary,

I know that it's been a few days since I've opened your pages and tried to put something down on paper. Things have been a little crazy. There's a lot that gets built up over time and trying to pack up a life lived in one place for so long is a challenge. It is absolutely amazing how much one can accumulate in just a few years—let alone a decade. You just don't realize how much you have until you're forced to sort through all of it and assign it a value—keep or don't keep.

And that's why I'm taking refuge in your pages right now. It's overwhelming! It's one of those tasks that I really hate to even tackle because there is just so much to do. And time, it seems, continues to slip away no matter how productive I am.

Speaking of productive, I do have to say that one thing I have enjoyed through all of this unpacking and repacking is the re-connection to memories. There is so much that we attach to inanimate objects. They could be objects we don't ever see again after the first time we pick them up and take them home. But as soon as they pop back into our lives those memories are all there fresh and new, just like the first time.

For example, I found (or re-found) this old stick in one of the many boxes I was going through. This happened to be one of my old boxes of "save items" and it really is just an old stick. It was smoothed by the lake water, the bark already worn off when I found it on the shore. It twists off to one side and really has no amazing features, except that it was the one I picked up and held onto as I walked the shore and talked with Cassie.

That was right after my mom died. I was not going through the loss well—as you know—and Cassie was there to help me through it. She listened and listened, held me and cried with me. She really was more of a sister than just a friend and that piece of wood was more than a visual reminder of her. It was a reminder of that time and place.

But I really don't have to rehash the past. It's already within your pages. No, what I really wanted to write down was that with all this packing up I'm doing for my dad I've found something that I don't think I was supposed to find.

I mean, it's been almost four years since mom died and now dad's gotten to the point that he doesn't want to be in the house anymore. I still think he hasn't really dealt with her loss, but he's made up his mind to go. So—as the good daughter—I'm here to do my part and help out. But what I stumbled onto while cleaning out one of his desk drawers made me stop right there.

So, here it is: I found a picture of my dad when he was a bit younger. He's in the embrace of a woman that is not my mom. They're both smiling like they've known each other for years. It's sometime during the fall and they have matching sweaters. They're both young, and from the note on the back this was taken the same year he proposed to my mom, which is a year before I was born.

On the back of the photo, it says Tom and Gale, Lisbon Park, '80.

Now, it doesn't really surprise me that my dad had other girlfriends. It doesn't even surprise me that he kept a photo of a previous girlfriend tucked away in book he knew my mom would never open. But when you look at the picture—I mean, really look at it—the woman's face is very familiar.

She is similar to my mom in her height and build, but she's too blond and her face is too round. She actually looks like Cassie in the face. In fact, I almost thought it was her at first, except that would be impossible because she's only a year older than me. But what if the photo is of someone related to Cassie? What if it's her mom?

Ever since I was young, I've known Cassie. We weren't as close as we are now, but we saw each other on a somewhat regular basis. I can't actually remember when we first met, but she's been around more since mom died.

So, what if she really is my sister? What if her mother and my dad had been a thing before he got serious with my mom? What if he had another child and that child is Cassie? How do I even approach such a topic? Clearly, I wasn't supposed to find that photo. I mean, it was tucked into a book in the very back of his desk drawer. But I am helping him clean and pack up, so the fact that I found it...

Do I ask my dad about it? Do I ask Cassie? I'm pretty sure Cassie's mom was named Gale. I never met her because she died while we were both small, but what if this was her? What if we're actually related? Did my mom know? Dad never said anything to me, nor did mom, but did she know? Did she suspect?

There are so many questions I have right now and it's so hard not to let them come spewing out. I just want to storm downstairs and drop the photo on the table in front of him so that I can see his reaction. I just don't know if I should.

I wish you could answer these questions for me, my silent friend. I wish I could come to you for answers to all of the questions I don't feel right taking to anyone else. I know you won't betray my trust, but do I dare keep it just between us?

Dad's calling from downstairs, so I'll need to go. I will have to commune with you again later on and pour over what to do next—if there's a next. It's just too much to think about now.

Sorry, he's calling again so I have to go. Until next time, dear diary, keep my secrets safe.