Every birthday, I set a table for three even though my daughter Karen hadn’t spoken to me in years. When I finally confronted her father and demanded to know where she was, he whispered, “Oh God… don’t you know?” Then he handed me seven years of letters my daughter had written but never sent.
Every year on my birthday, I set the table for three. Me. My husband. And Karen. Her chair always stayed empty. But I never stopped setting it. Karen was my …
Every birthday, I set a table for three even though my daughter Karen hadn’t spoken to me in years. When I finally confronted her father and demanded to know where she was, he whispered, “Oh God… don’t you know?” Then he handed me seven years of letters my daughter had written but never sent. Read More