On my 47th birthday, I set the table for three, though one seat remained painfully empty. My daughter Karen had not spoken to me for two years, and the silence was unbearable. But that night, an old birthday card I found changed everything.
The extra plate on the table was a small act of hope. Brad noticed and softly asked if it was for Karen. I nodded, my voice caught in my throat.
Dinner smelled like home, but the empty chair reminded me of the distance between us. I called Karen, but the phone kept ringing with no answer. Brad comforted me as tears fell freely.
Later, I found a forgotten birthday card Karen had written but never sent. Her words revealed her feelings of hurt and confusion, and a wish to reconnect.
Determined, I told Brad I had to face my past and visit Karen’s father, Nigel. He agreed to come along. At Nigel’s house, I learned Karen had moved to Canada and changed her contact info.
Nigel gave me the card Karen left with him. I felt a mix of anger and hope as I read her message aloud.
The next day, I flew to Canada, clutching the card. When Karen opened the door, we shared a long, healing hug. In that moment, the years of silence began to fade.
