MR SMITH, AN ENGINEER




This is what I know about my natural father. He was an engineer, his name was Smith (well, that’s what I was told.... ) He joined the army in WWII and was a family man who lived near my mother and had an affair with her while her husband was away at sea.
Not a lot is it? ....... I can guess something of what he was like, because bits of him must be like bits of me – he is half of me, after all. But which bits?
How it would have helped my self confidence and sense of identity to have seen a reflection of myself “outside” me somewhere. I wouldn’t have felt quite so invisible, or quite such a non-person.






I wrote a letter to my Dad:

Dear Mr Smith,    father,   Dad,

I wish I could have met you. I wish I knew more about you.

I was told you were an engineer, so maybe I take after you. I am very good with my hands and I love computers and techy stuff. Do you think we are alike?

I was told you were a family man. So have I got more brothers and sisters?

You were told about my birth, but did you ever think about me? Did you ever want to meet me? Or want to know anything about me?

You shouldn’t have done what you did.

I miss you.

Love from your daughter

Julie (Lillah)
ps Please send a photo


People say that you can’t miss what you’ve never had, but that’s not true. It’s also supposed to be the case that if your surrogate parents were good enough you would never feel the urge to find your natural parents. That’s not true either.
I feel desperately sad at knowing so little about my father.
Signing myself “your daughter” had a very odd effect on me, too. I had a feeling for the first time that I actually am someone’s daughter. A feeling that I am an embodied real person, rather than a sort of floating nobody-and-nothing-in-particular.