Making Peace

Human Peace Sign--Budapest--2006--Google Images

I don’t recall meeting my biological father until I was about twelve years old. My mom met my stepdad when I was four days old and he was the man who raised me as his daughter.

My two older sisters remember our parent’s marriage. I do not. They clearly resemble our bio-dad, but I do not.  This never bothered me, until I moved out of the house. As a child, I learned bio-dad wasn’t well thought of in our home and that he had been known to mistreat people once or thrice. The message I got was that he never deserved to be in our lives.

 No longer living at home, I made a decision to get to know my biological father better, to complete that missing part of my DNA. I knew we had Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD) and migraine headaches in common.  It would take many years before I would find a more admirable connection with him.   

As I started my relationship with him at 22 years old, he would tell me stories about the feral cats that began showing up in his back yard.  At first it was one or two cats, then they began having babies.  Hearing about his wild cats was pleasing to me, and in some way I felt closer to him because of it.

Many years later, a feral cat showed up in my backyard.   His coat was matted and part of his ear was missing.  I made friends with this cat and his health improved. He let me pet him and care for him.   If you’ve ever nursed an animal back to health, you know that’s a special relationship.

Only recently did I make the connection that my fascination with animals, and taking care of them was something I shared with my bio Dad.  I’ve chosen to see his more admirable qualities, knowing that there is at least a little good in anyone if we look close enough.  

--Leah from The Daily Piglet