I've spent years trying to decide between two halves of myself. The first half that tells me to listen to my mother, the second half to find out for myself.
On the right hand, I grew up being told that he never cared, never loved, not once and not ever- no child support, no cards, no phone calls and after I turned eight, no more "other" family visits with the "other" Grandparents.
On the left, I always thought, what was he really like, does he really not care, what would he say if he knew?
Now twenty years later, I found a number and called, asked for a man I've never really known. After hours and weeks of phone conversations, I meet him at the airport, the man that once was my father.