November 24, 1995
Dear Dad
If the Social Security Administration forwards this to you, then I am your daughter, born Colleen Elizabeth Moore on August 31 1961, in Oakland CA. My parents were Elwood Richard Moore and Carol Ann (Nelson) Moore. I have an older sister and two younger sisters: Diana, Annette and Yvette. If you are the correct person, please read on.
My father disappeared from my life almost 22 years ago this April 11, 1997 (4-11-75) when I was 13 years old while we were living on the Slash M Ranch in Hocomo, MO. I have been looking for him for 12 years, using every available resource, including the Internet, Phone Disc searches and a personal friend who is a PI.
Many things have changed over the last twenty years, but one thing has never changed--the fact that I love you Dad, very, very much. I cannot forget all that happened while I was growing up, but I can forgive. And I have. I am a parent myself now, and happily married to my very best friend. We are also parents to 5 girls, --YES 5 daughters. They range in age from 3 years old to 12 years old. And the best gift of all is they are all healthy. As a parent myself, I can now more fully comprehend the task you took on after our mother died. Not many fathers back then would have decided to raise their children themselves. Over the years I have come to respect that in you, Dad.
Your methods of discipline at times weren't the best, but deep down I know you loved us and were doing your best. You always pushed us to do our best, nothing less, and that is what I have done to find you, my very best.
I remember flunking a history test in the fifth grade and the teacher gave us the opportunity to retake it. After getting in trouble for flunking, you then sat down with me and helped me study until you knew that I knew the material. I made an A on that retest, thanks in part to your helping me.
I went on to graduate from high school, went to college, dropped out due to severe migraines, got married, had four daughters, then I went back to college. I did my very best, had another daughter while going to college, and graduated on my 10th wedding anniversary with a degree in Computer Information Systems (Computer Programming) and a 3.0.
I'm not sure I'd have ever been able to do all that if you hadn't taught me that there was no such thing as "I can't". I had a high school guidance counselor tell me once: "You CAN'T take typing, you don't have two good hands." I said "Then find me a book that teaches me how to type with 1 right hand, I'm GOING TO LEARN TO TYPE!" Needless to say, I did learn, and today I type 45 words a minute with one hand...You were right, there is no such thing as CAN'T.
Because of all the physical therapy you insisted I do (which I absolutely hated), most people today cannot tell I have any physical limitations at all. Even my lazy eye was operated on a few years ago and no one can tell it doesn't see. I no longer walk pigeon-toed, and I only limp when my leg is very tired. Thank you for all that physical therapy and all those exercises you made me do every day. You made me a better person because of it.
Words will never fully express how much and how deeply I love you Dad. I went through many foster homes in 4 years, and no matter who my foster parents were, I knew there wasn't one pair that would have done for us what you did for us. You showed us a world we couldn't get from books with all those museums and missions we visited. You taught me how to be honest and always tell the truth (although it took me awhile to learn). To this day, I tell my children "You will always get in more trouble if you lie than if you tell the truth." You didn't know it at the time, but you taught us how to stick up for ourselves and never be bullied. Your methods weren't the best but we learned, you did your best and I love you for it. If not for you, I wouldn't be the person I am today.
After all these years, I just want you to know three things Dad.
I love you, I forgive you, and I want you in my life. Even
though you may not want my family in your life, I pray that is
not the case. Please, don't toss this letter. Social Security
will not forward another. I feel like this is my last chance to
tell you how I feel, so I will say it again, PLEASE, Dad, call
me, collect if you need to, I know you don't write letters. I
love you, what's done is done, we turned out fine. But I have
always felt a piece of me is missing; that piece is you Dad.
Please, Please, Please call me. But if you choose not to, please
rest knowing I will never forget what you have done for me, and
that I love you with every part of my soul. My number is below:
PLEASE CALL.
Colleen Moore Kittrell