![\"\"](\"http:\/\/ezzuye.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/02\/476611556_1181439370041427_7756890461246250228_n.jpg\")
<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
I was eight when I found my father.
\nIt was one of those afternoons when my mother and I toured the mall without buying anything, just looking around.<\/p>\n
A fundraiser was taking place to support the elderly in the aftermath of a hurricane.<\/p>\n
Then he walked on stage.<\/p>\n
His face was so familiar that my breath caught. And he moved with confidence while remaining nice. Perhaps it was the small, prominent birthmark on his chin, which I also have.<\/p>\n
\u201cMom! Mom! That\u2019s him! That\u2019s my dad!\u201d<\/p>\n
She turned, her face open, and relaxed until she noticed him. Then she drained all of her color.<\/p>\n
\u201cNathan,\u201d she said sharply. \u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
Unfortunately, it was too late. In my young mind, this man was my father, and I wasn\u2019t going to let him go.<\/p>\n
![\"\"](\"http:\/\/ezzuye.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/02\/6e9954ac-eeba-4405-b045-a37a2ec1211e-e1738834395666-300x223.webp\")
\nFor illustrative purposes only.
\nMy legs moved before my brain could keep up. I heard my mother call me, her voice rising in panic, but I could not stop.<\/p>\n
I approached the stage, my chest heaving and my little hands grabbing the fabric of his jacket.
\n\u201cDad,\u201d I choked out. \u201cIs it really you?\u201d<\/p>\n
He crouched slightly to meet me at eye level. His hand, warm and steady, rested on mine.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe\u2019ll talk in a minute, okay?\u201d he said softly.<\/p>\n
When he finally stepped down, I grabbed his jacket again.<\/p>\n
\u201cAre you my dad?\u201d I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.<\/p>\n
He did not respond right away. Instead, he straightened, his attention traveling from me to my mother.<\/p>\n
![\"\"](\"http:\/\/ezzuye.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/02\/istockphoto-1153922247-612x612-1-300x200.webp\")
\nFor illustrative purposes only.
\n\u201cI\u2019m sorry, but do I know you?\u201d he asked her, his voice quiet, careful.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m so sorry, sir. We should go.\u201d<\/p>\n
But he didn\u2019t let her.<\/p>\n
\u201cCan we talk in private?\u201d<\/p>\n
A volunteer approached, offering to take me away while they spoke.<\/p>\n
\u201cCome on, sweetheart, let\u2019s give them some room,\u201d she said. \u201cMy grandson looks just like you!\u201d<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t want to go, but my mother gave me the look that meant I shouldn\u2019t dispute.<\/p>\n
I wasn\u2019t sure what he said to her.<\/p>\n
![\"\"](\"http:\/\/ezzuye.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/02\/istockphoto-1553162112-612x612-1-300x194.webp\")
\nFor illustrative purposes only.
\nI couldn\u2019t sleep the night after going to the mall.
\nI shifted to my side, observing the sliver of light under my bedroom door. Mom was still awake.<\/p>\n
\u201cMom?\u201d I called.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhen will I see him again?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThings like this\u2026 they\u2019re complicated, Nathan.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDo you know him?\u201d I frowned.<\/p>\n
![\"\"](\"http:\/\/ezzuye.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/02\/istockphoto-465394396-612x612-1-300x200.webp\")
\nFor illustrative purposes only.
\n\u201cNo, sweetheart,\u201d she shook her head. \u201cBut he was very kind.\u201d<\/p>\n
Nonetheless, she did not say no. And that was enough to keep me hopeful.<\/p>\n
A few months later, my mother informed me that a friend was coming over. I didn\u2019t think much of it till the door opened and he walked in.<\/p>\n
\u201cHey there, Nathan,\u201d he said. \u201cI\u2019m Steven.\u201d<\/p>\n
But I still did not know the truth. Not till ten years later.
\nOn my eighteenth birthday, my mother and Steven sat me down.<\/p>\n
Their hands were already wrapped together, with fingers interlaced. A team.<\/p>\n
Steven was not my biological father. When I was younger, he had taken on the position because he wanted to. There was no blood involved.<\/p>\n
![\"\"](\"http:\/\/ezzuye.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/02\/istockphoto-465951700-612x612-1-300x200.webp\")
\nFor illustrative purposes only.
\n\u201cWhy did you do it?\u201d I asked. \u201cThat day at the mall. Why didn\u2019t you just say no and walk away?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI looked at you,\u201d he continued. \u201cAnd I couldn\u2019t bring myself to walk away. I couldn\u2019t be that man, even if I wasn\u2019t really your father.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe told me,\u201d she said. \u201cSteven told me that he wanted to be there. Not to replace anyone. Not to lie to you. Just to show up. To be what you needed. However, you needed it.\u201d<\/p>\n
Steven hadn\u2019t left our side since my mother first introduced him as her buddy. He was always there, dragging us along to his fundraising events and working at soup kitchens and animal shelters.<\/p>\n
And when they married and he moved in, it was as if he had always belonged to us.<\/p>\n
That day at the mall, I believed I had located my biological father.<\/p>\n
But fate provided me with the exact one I needed.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I was eight when I found my father. It was one of those afternoons when my mother and I toured the mall without buying anything, just looking… <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":21153,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-21152","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"yoast_head":"\n