I never (as far as I know) fathered my own children. I did however raise two for the eleven years my disastrous first marriage limped along. They were the daughters from my wife's first marriage. I loved those kids as if they were my own from the time they were one and three until they were thirteen and sixteen. One day they were gone. I never adopted them so when the divorce went through, the kids were not a factor. They were out of my life.
I was sitting at my desk in work one day six years later when the telephone rang. "Hello"
After about three seconds of silence a familiar voice on the other end said, "Hi Brad, this is Stephanie."
I was at a complete loss and all I could think to say was, "Hi, why are you calling me?"
"I was camping with some friends last week and I knew the types of birdsand trees and how to build a fire and none of the others knew any of that."
"And?"
"I just graduated from UConn with a degree in art history."
"Congratulations" I said but I was getting a little impatient. "Listen Steph, I very happy for you but I have a report to write here and it's not writing itself. Is there something specific I can do for you?"
"Well that's why I called, because you already did. I was out in the woods thinking about things and it came to me that what I knew about nature and my interest in art is only because you were in my life and I wanted to thank you." It brought me to tears.
She is a director in an art museum in a major city in the southwest US now.
I saw a poster one time and I will never forget it:
One hundred years from now...
It will not matter what your bank account was,
The sort of house you lived in,
Or the kind of car you drove...
But the world may be a better place because
You were important in the life of a Child!
