My father? I never knew him. Never even seen a picture of him.
He scarcely saw his parents. When Christopher was small, he was terrified that he would meet Papa out walking in the Park one day and not recognize him.
Unfortunately, I never knew my father and when I did, it was very briefly.
I didn't know my father very well; I only met him a few times.
I am truly multi-racial. I never knew my biological father. I've always had less information than I would have liked to have had. All I know from my mother is that I have connections to many different cultures.
I am still confused because I still don't know who my father is. And so who is my mother? The feeling is still there.
Is Joe your father, Zach?' I don't know where the question came from, but it was out, and I couldn't take it back even if I'd wanted to. 'No.' Zach shook his head. 'I never knew my dad. I don't know anything about him.
No adult in my family would ever tell me anything about who my father was. I knew from an older cousin - only four years older than I am - everything, or what little I could discover about him.
I didn't know who my daddy was until I was 10 or 12. Surprising as it may seem, he was living right across the street.
Early in my career I began receiving letters from a woman in the Midwest who claimed to be my mother.
